


The Fallen Princess

by War_of_Stars



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang is precious and just wants everyone to be happy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Zuko (Avatar), Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Azula (Avatar)-centric, Azula Week 2020, Azula gets a dragon, Crazy Azula (Avatar), Don’t copy to another site, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Firelord Zuko (Avatar), Fluff, Gaang (Avatar), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Shaw knew this was a bad idea but Ran overruled him, Slow Burn, Stubborn Katara (Avatar), Toph Being Awesome, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, and Firelord Zuko is just trying his best okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24755014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/War_of_Stars/pseuds/War_of_Stars
Summary: ”Redemption is simply the revival of a dead soul.”Azula walked slowly up the aisle with vengeance in her eyes, the knife carefully hidden in the folds of her lace sleeves.It would be her final act. Victory snatched from the jaws of defeat.The Avatar would be dead before the dawn.
Relationships: Aang & Azula (Avatar), Aang/Azula (Avatar), Azula & Ozai (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 297
Kudos: 475





	1. Book One: Wedding

Azula had been a princess once. 

She’d been feared, respected, and loathed in equal measure. She’d commanded armies, burned down cities, and killed the most powerful man alive. She’d been a fourteen year old girl, and her name had struck terror in the hearts of men. 

Now, she was a princess in name only. It had become a symbolic title with no power behind it, a mockery of everything she’d once been.

Ty Lee straightened the golden crown on her head. Azula resisted the urge to rip it to shreds — and Ty Lee along with it. She didn’t know why the irritatingly optimistic girl still stuck around. Azula had thought the banishment had made it fairly clear how she felt about her and Mai, but apparently the girl just couldn’t take a hint. 

Atleast she wasn’t a complete fool, though. Ty Lee and the other guards had chi blocked Azula as soon as she’d been released from her bindings in the asylum, and continued to use chi blocking techniques to keep her bending at bay. Not that she could’ve escaped anyway, with countless guards watching her day in and day out, but it was heartening that people still feared her, to a degree.

However, the chi blocking wouldn’t be necessary after today, once the Avatar became her new jailor.

Ty Lee wasn’t the only one with her at the moment, though. A few handmaidens were arranging the skirts of her dress, and adding some final touches to her hair. Azula didn’t know why they bothered, the dark red veil would cover it anyway, along with her face. She’d insisted on it, as if covering her face would somehow hide her shame, or atleast lessen the indignity of marrying her worst enemy.

Azula remembered how shocked she’d been when she’d first heard of it. Ty Lee had explained it all to her, after the dust had settled.

After the war, there had been countless rebellions and assassination attempts on her _dearest_ brother within the Fire Nation. Ozai had powerful supporters, after all, and decades of propaganda proved to be quite effective. As time went on, and people grew accustomed to peacetime, her father’s supporters became a minority, but remained disruptive nonetheless, and they seemed to have acquired a new target. 

Azula, daughter of Ozai, the greatest firebender of her generation. At least, she had once been.

Father may have lost his firebending, but her sentimental fool of a brother and their soft-hearted Avatar couldn’t bring themselves to throw her in jail and take away her bending as they’d done with him. They suspected if they did, it would likely have driven her to suicide, being as unstable as she was, and since she wasn’t exactly a threat, it hadn’t mattered anyway. 

They weren’t wrong, of course. 

Azula could hardly remember her first years in the asylum. Everything after her Agni Kai was a blur.

Except for Ursa, though. Her mother had watched her with those baleful golden eyes, whispering how much she loved her, how much it killed her to see Azula like this...

 _Lies._ A shadow flickered out of the corner of her eye, but Azula ignored it, her fingers clenched in trembling fists as she stood up and moved towards the palanquin, settling back against the cushions, pulling her legs up against her chest defensively and clasping her hands around her knees. Four men lifted it, carrying her to her doom, countless guards surrounding her on all sides, barring any means of escape.

Ty Lee gave her a reassuring smile off to the side before exiting the room, and Azula remembered how the other girl had told her that the rebels had rallied around their former princess, with countless break-ins at the asylum she’d been kept in to restore the rightful heir to the throne. She was impressed to hear that one had even gotten as far as her door.

Azula had become a problem that no one knew how to fix, until someone had come forward and suggested the most idiotic solution of them all. Break her as a symbol without outright killing her or doing anything that might taint their precious little consciences. Tie her to the one man in the four nations who could contain her fire, singlehandedly stop any attempts to break her out, and complete Ozai’s defeat once and for all, quelling the last fires of a dying rebellion. 

How she’d _raged_ when they had told her she was to marry the Avatar.

It had nearly driven her to relapse. It would appear her enemies needed to humiliate her completely, dishonor her beyond what she’d already been forced to endure. 

She’d screamed at her unrepentant brother, who seemed far more concerned for his friend than he was for her, but even then, she’d refused to beg. She’d yelled until her voice was hoarse, had gone on a temporary hunger strike, and then, when it had become clear that nothing was about to change what was to happen... she’d come to a realization.

Gradually, Azula had come to see an opportunity.

She’d failed, over and over and over again, and it had broken her, had filled her head with voices that never went silent, filled her days with ghosts of the parents she’d likely never see again. After years, the voices had quieted, and the ghosts had faded, though they’d never completely disappeared. 

It had taken a while, but she, the prodigy who had never once tasted defeat, had bitterly learned to come to terms with her failure, and accept that there was only one way now to regain a semblance of her lost honor.

The kitchen knife she’d been able to sneak into the lace sleeve of her dress was ice-cold against her skin, which burned like an ember in anticipation of what she was about to do. Not yet, of course, not with all these guards here, but soon.

The palace entrance came into view, as thousands of people lined the streets, eager for a glimpse of the fallen Fire Nation princess. It was traditional for a royal bride to receive flowers, tokens, and blessings during the procession. 

There were no such things for Azula.

She saw the full range of emotions on their faces, everything from fear to hatred to satisfaction at her humiliation.

It was _him_ who they were here for. As they got closer to the palace, Azula heard the masses cry out his name repeatedly, singing his praises and wishing him well. Their grey-eyed savior, who rose from the ashes and brought balance to the world, ushering in an era of peace that just might last beyond their lifetimes. 

Peace had made the people soft.

War would make them strong again.

They have reached the entrance of the grand hall, and the guards gently set the palanquin down outside the doors. Behind her, hundreds of peasants strained for a glimpse of the Avatar and his comrades, who were also gathered here, along with nobles and representatives from all nations. 

The cheers became deafening as the doors are opened, guards having to hold the crowds back as Azula stepped off the palanquin. 

She half-expected Zuko to be there to walk her down the aisle, but he was standing close to the Avatar, with only the water tribe peasant boy standing in between them. He was dressed in the ceremonial robes of the Firelord, and he shot her a grim look, filled with warning, although she could see something akin to sympathy in his gaze. 

Azula bristled. She didn’t need his _pity_. He was the one that had given her like a prize to a man who was supposed to be their worst enemy. The one that had dishonored them all. 

Two guards walked alongside her instead. As if she would be able to hurt anyone here, in a room filled with the world’s most powerful benders. 

The dark red train of her dress flowed behind her as she made her way to the pedestal at a snail’s pace. Her billowing silk skirt was embroidered with intricate golden dragons running alongside the edges, with a single dragon head spitting flames into her crimson bodice. A shower of crystals ran down the sides of her dress, decorating her voluminous sleeves, where the knife was safely tucked in.

Azula had insisted on the maroon and gold colors. She didn’t care if her clothes clashed with the Avatar’s plain orange robes. Her colors were the colors of the Fire Nation, and she would wear no other. Besides, she matched the elaborate burgundy decorations and carpet leading up to the pedestal, and the gilded tapestries covering the walls.

Bright torches were lit along the path, though they were hardly necessary, considering it was right before sunset and there was still plenty of natural light.

Still, it was a nice touch. If not for the groom, who had stubbornly clung to his monk’s clothing, this would be a wedding fit for a princess.

Azula bet the peasants loved him for it. Refusing to wear anything more elaborate than his regular monk’s attire made him appear more humble, adding a certain gravitas. 

As she reached the end of her walk, the Avatar’s closest friends came into view. The veil blurred her surroundings somewhat, but she could still make out their figures. There was Zuko, his scar making him hard to miss, and the two water tribe peasants, who shot her twin glares. Some grudges would never be forgotten, but in this instance, Azula knew they were right to glower. She had, after all, tried to kill the Avatar multiple times, had even succeeded once, and tonight, she was going to finish what she started in Ba Sing Se. 

Not that they knew that.

There was her favorite prisoner, narrowing her eyes as Azula passed her by. The princess resisted the urge to smirk. To her right, she could see the blind girl, watching her with wary eyes.

Oh, she does hope it’s this metal bender that will get the honor of executing her the next morning. They say she’s the best earth bender there is, which means Azula’s end will be _glorious_ if the blind one will be her executioner.

Forget her wedding. Her demise will be a far more enjoyable affair, for all parties involved.

Of course, that’s all if Avatar Aang somehow doesn’t kill her with his own powers when she stabs him in the heart. Or the neck. Or even the face.

She’s got options. 

Meeting her end at the hands of her worst enemy would, of course, be the greatest honor, but a part of her still doubted the Avatar was capable of taking a life, being the pacifist that he was.

The Avatar stood at the end of the hall in front of the priest, and she knew that thousands stood with him.

Azula stood alone. Always alone. Even in the days when she had Mai and Ty Lee, she had always somehow been separate, _different_. Her own brother had taken the side of her enemy... not that she could really blame him.

Even Ozai had seen her as useless in the waning days of his reign, and Ozai had — well, he’d liked her more than anyone else ever had. Of course he had... she was an extension of him, everything that he had cultivated her to be. She’d shared his triumphs, and now, she shared his failures.

Not anymore, though. She would have one last victory, one last moment in the sun. Azula’s life was forfeit; it had been ever since she had lost the Agni Kai. There was only one more chance to reclaim the last vestige of her honor now, and she would not allow it to slip away. 

She would kill the man who was responsible for it all. Her suffering, her failures, her ignominy. 

It’s just a pity that she would have to marry him first, but there really was no other way around it.

Finally, she had reached the man himself. The guards disappeared as she moved to stand opposite to him. They were no longer needed. 

Her hands were securely in the grip of the most powerful man alive. 

She’d avoided looking at him so far, her eyes straying everywhere else, from the decor to the guests, but there was no avoiding it anymore.

Azula stared at him through the veil, observing his granite eyes, which were initially focused on the priest, but then turned to face her. He had been a boy the last time she’d seen him, and she, a teenage girl hardly two years his senior.

Now, he was a man. 

That much was evident in his sharp jawline, stately figure, and muscled arms.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her, his eyes intensely focused on hers.

A taunt about his beggar’s clothing rose to her lips, but it never left her mouth. It would have, if she was still fourteen years old, petty and assured of victory, filled with the need to rub it in other people’s faces. She’d always loved testing the people around her, finding the right strings to tug, the right buttons to push. It was a beautiful thing, to see a person break, succumb to the raw power that was Azula, but now was not the time for it. The years had taught her patience.

The ceremony was over too quickly. They’ve said all the words they’ve needed to say, Azula barely holding back her seething rage as she spoke her vows. The Avatar was unflappable, outwardly unfazed by her poorly concealed hostility, but she could see a myriad of emotions in the depths of his grey orbs.

He lifted the veil, setting it back on her dark hair which tumbled freely down her shoulders, as the hall was flooded with color, no longer in shades of red. Azula spared the large room a glance, and she could tell from the expressions on their faces that these people thought this man would tame her. They thought he could douse the worst of her flames. 

Fools, every single one of them. She is Azula, princess of the Fire Nation, and her fire burns brighter than it ever has, as he leaned down, sealing their union with a searing kiss. 

She was fire and fury and so much more. No man on earth could contain her, and the Avatar would never even get the chance to try.

Polite applause echoed down the hall as they turned to face their audience. The peasant water bender was still glaring at her, refusing to clap, and Zuko placed his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. 

Aww, did Zuzu have a crush on the little waterbender? How _disgustingly_ cute. Especially if the rumors she’d heard about the Avatar and her were true. 

She refused to call him her husband, even in her head. 

It would only be for one night anyway.

He led her back down the aisle, people clapping and congratulating him. It’s as if she hardly existed, which was good. Azula would rather slide under their radar. 

They exit the hall, climbing up the stairs on to a balcony, in full view of the crowds. The cheering reached a fever pitch as the commoners caught sight of them, and the Avatar waved back, a boyish grin on his face. It’s the first time he’s smiled that day, looking genuinely delighted to see all the people that have gathered here for them.

For _him_.

He didn’t move to kiss her again, thank the spirits. She didn’t know if she could stomach two kisses in a day. 

They made their way back to the reception hall eventually, where the other guests were already seated, and took their places at the center of a long table. Zuko took the seat next to her, with the two waterbenders on the Avatar’s other side.

“May the spirits bless you with many children,” one of the elders spoke up, raising his wine cup for a toast, and many others joined in.

Azula glared. She would cut out her own womb before she brought another airbender into the world. 

The Avatar would never force himself on her though, she knew that, so children were the last of her concerns. It was a matter of getting close enough, slipping under his guard, which would prove to be the real challenge. Azula had considered seducing him, but she’d almost immediately thrown out that idea.

Aside from the fact that she still had no idea how to flirt, it would likely put the Avatar more on edge if she was suddenly nice to him. Her best bet was to simply wait for a moment of a weakness, or maybe pretend to vulnerable and have him pity her, enabling her to catch him off guard. 

She was still pondering it when Zuko piped up, “Azula, we need to talk.”

“Do we, Zuzu? If I remember correctly, the last time you wanted to talk to me, it was to tell me you were marrying off your flesh and blood to a stranger, the man who destroyed father.”

“You know Aang.”

“I tried to kill him. It’s not the same thing.”

He balled his fists, his eyes darting away for a brief moment. 

Azula sighed. Her brother was far too easy to get to. She preferred a challenge. “Fine, what do you want to talk about?”

“Aang.” He paused, then continued, “Don’t hurt him. He is a good man, a better one than I’ll ever be, and frankly, Aang deserves better than this.”

It was one thing to know that her brother didn’t give a damn about her. It was another thing entirely to hear him essentially say it, to hear the affection in his voice as he spoke about the Avatar. 

She clenched her fingers in her lap, and told herself she didn’t care. Azula was her father’s pride and joy, and now she’d be his avenging angel. Zuko was _nothing_.

He seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. “It’s not... Azula, I do care about you, I probably always will, no matter what, but I also know better than to think you don’t have some kind of plan underway. The wardens told me you’d been getting better, and... can’t you just let it go, sister? Can’t you atleast give it a chance?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Had he forgotten who he was speaking to?

“Azula, hurting the Avatar isn’t going to accomplish anything. It isn’t going to restore your honor, trust me.”

“I’m not going to hurt him, Zuzu.” _I’m going to destroy him._

He looked unconvinced, but one of the waterbenders tapped him on the shoulder before he could say anything more. 

“Mind if I sit here for a bit, Zuko?”

“Oh, of course Katara!” He stumbled a little bit in his haste to vacate the chair, squeezing the peasant girl’s hand clumsily as he left, and she shot him a warm smile. 

Azula coughed. She didn’t think either of them would appreciate her laughing at how pathetic they were.

The waterbender turned to glare at her, and the rage in this girl’s eyes matched her own. Azula could respect that, even if she respected little else. 

“You know, I felt sorry for you after the Agni Kai. I’m glad that Zuko didn’t kill you, but don’t think I’ve forgotten all the times you’ve tried to kill us Azula, and I _know_ you haven’t changed. Hurt Aang, and there’ll be hell to pay.” 

“Well, look who finally grew a backbone.” Azula smirked, fingering her wine glass, her ruby necklace glittering around her throat.

The waterbender’s brother appeared on her right shoulder, leaning against her chair. “She isn’t joking, you know. We’ve been with Aang since the very beginning, and there isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for him.” His eyes were filled with a dark promise.

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I think my favorite former prisoner and my moron of a brother are calling you both over for a dance.” 

Azula gestured to the two on the dance floor, and the waterbenders exchanged looks, stepping towards the dance floor, but not before shooting her identical scowls, a sharp warning in their eyes. She wondered what it was like, to be that in synch with your sibling. 

She and Zuko surely wouldn’t know. Their father had always pitted them against each other.

It’s the blind girl who paid her the last visit, sliding into the chair with practiced ease.

“If you hurt Aang, I’ll kill you.” Simple. Direct. To the point. Azula liked that. 

Finally, a worthy opponent.

“What’s your deal anyway Princess? I mean, the only thing anyone would tell me about you after the war was that you went full on psycho. Not that I’m surprised, I mean, I thought my parents could be overbearing, but your dad’s a piece of work. I think they’d have to lock me up in a psych ward too if he was _my_ father.”

Azula frowned. She respected the earth bender a bit more than the others, true — she respected power, and anyone that had it, but the other girl had crossed a line. 

“My deal? My brother’s the one that made me go through with this, earth bender. I don’t understand why you’re all threatening me when a majority of you must’ve agreed to go along with this.”

“We didn’t have a choice. Twinkle Toes is a self-sacrificing idiot who’d do just about anything to preserve the peace.” 

Azula raised an eyebrow. “You call the Avatar Twinkle Toes?”

“You still call him the Avatar? Isn’t he your husband now? You can call him Aang, you know.”

Azula turned away, refusing to look at the metal bender. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but seemed to think better of it and left the table to join her friends. They were all doing some old Fire Nation dance that she’d never learned, laughing and jumping, swaying their bodies to the rhythm.

They were rejoicing, and why wouldn’t they? The last bit of resistance was now brought to heel. Tomorrow, she was to be taken to one of the secluded Air Nation temples, where she’d no longer be anyone’s problem but the Avatar’s.

They hadn’t spoken to each other since the wedding ceremony, and the Avatar had instead occupied himself by chatting with his friends, dancing and making idle conversation with the guests who swarmed him. Sometimes, though, she’d catch him sneaking a glance at her. 

The Avatar stared at her in a way that was different from anyone else. It wasn’t a glare, or a fearful look. There was no dismissiveness in his gaze, or even the pity that she saw whenever she looked in Zuko’s eyes. He looked... almost introspective, as if he was searching for something that he’d been expecting, but hadn’t quite found yet.

She caught him looking again, and shot him a false smile. She wondered if he could see how brittle it was, but she doubted it. He must be too swept up in the celebration. 

_Strike just when they thought they’ve won. Strike when they’ll never see you coming._

Ozai had taught her well. Her wine glass never touched her lips, as she waited with bated breath.

By the time the reception drew to a close, and guests began to trickle out, Azula could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. 

She wasn’t afraid of anyone. People were afraid of _her_.

The Avatar wordlessly offered her his arm, but she refused it, and after an awkward pause he led the way to their chambers, stepping past a couple guards to enter. 

It’s larger than her former bedroom in the palace, with firelight flickering off the crimson walls, but it’s surprisingly simplistic. There’s a polished wooden desk off to the side, a wardrobe, and a single bed in the center.

The Avatar coughed, drawing her attention. 

“Azula, I - I think we should talk.”

He moved over to the bed, sinking down before patting the space next to him. She crossed her arms, a haughty expression on her face, but made a show of reluctantly sitting down next to him, their shoulders touching.

Steel slipped into her palm, which she hid by placing her hands in her lap. 

Almost there. 

“This whole thing is kind of insane. I get that. I know you didn’t want this, and that our history is kind of complicated...”

“Complicated? I killed you, Avatar.” 

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly. 

“Zuko told me what happened after the Agni Kai. Along with some... other things. About your parents.”

She looked away, seething. _You don’t know a damn thing about me._ If he thought the years had somehow softened her, he was about to find out just how wrong he was.

“Can’t we at least try to be friends?”

So _naive_. Apparently even age had not tempered his innocence.

The Avatar looked away for hardly a second, but a second was all Azula needed.

She twisted the knife in her hand, striking at his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y’all, hope everyone liked the chapter! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! 
> 
> This story started out as a one-shot, but I’m considering expanding it to a multichapter fic, so feel free to let me know if that’s something you’d like to read!


	2. Book One: Father

Aang’s hand intercepted the knife before it reached his chest, twisting Azula’s wrist until it clattered to the floor. 

She didn’t give up there, though, and a part of him almost admired that, before he remembered that this woman was literally trying to kill him with a kitchen knife. It was a bit disappointing, actually, he’d expected her trademark blue flames at the least, but then again Ty Lee had mentioned something about chi blocking her at the reception. 

Azula interrupted his thoughts by slamming her head against his, catching him off guard before reaching for the knife once more to finish what she’d started. 

A well-placed kick sent the blade spinning out of her hands, with him gripping her arms as she moved after it.

She stomped on his foot, causing him to wince, but he managed to restrain her, her back slamming against the wall. 

For a moment, they just stared at each other, and Aang could see the wheels turning in her head. She was probably trying to find some sort of weakness to exploit, so he decided to speak up before she could think of anything else because _spirits_ that head-butt had hurt.

“So, now that that’s out of the way, can we talk?”

Azula briefly stopped struggling, looking at him in disbelief. Well, that was clearly _not_ the response she’d been expecting. 

He sighed, loosening his grip slightly. “Just because I haven’t seen you in a while, doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten how many times you tried to kill me and my friends, Azula. To be honest, I’d be more surprised if you _didn’t_ try to murder me.”

The look in Azula’s eyes would’ve sent lesser men running in the other direction. The corners of her mouth twisted into a scowl, her chilly eyes never leaving his face as she attempted to twist out of his grip. “What are you going to do now, Avatar? Kill me?”

He blinked. “Of course not!” 

Taking advantage of his surprise, she managed to knee him in the groin, sending him stumbling backwards as she made a break for the door, the knife glinting in the dim candlelight. Aang grabbed her ankle, sending her tumbling to the ground and pulling her backwards, but he soon found himself underneath her with a knife inches from his neck, Azula pressing the blade downwards, closer and closer to his throat. 

He grabbed the arm holding the knife, shoving her backwards, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the knife flying out of the room underneath the door. 

Of course, at that point, his _lovely_ wife decided to attempt strangling him with her bare hands, her fingers closing around his throat, but he easily pulled them away, holding her in place. Surrender didn’t seem to be in Azula’s vocabulary, he’d give her that. It helped that his clothing was far more simple and easy to move around in than the wedding dress she’s had to wear, making it easier to subdue her. 

Her hair was tussled from their fight, and for some reason Aang was reminded their encounter at the Western Air Temple, the last time he’d seen her in person before today. Her windswept dark hair tumbling down her shoulders as she’d smirked at him, perched on the side of the rocky cliff, their eyes meeting for a split second. 

Azula had been moments from death, yet she’d still been sporting her cocksure smile, confident and bold in a way that he could scarcely remember now, looking at the woman in question and seeing a world of difference between the girl she had been and the woman she’d grown up to be.

Well, actually, she’d just tried to kill him multiple times in less than five minutes, so maybe not that much of a difference.

“Azula, stop. It’s over.”

She narrowed her eyes and stilled, but everything in her body language indicated she was preparing for a fight.

“You’re quicker than I thought you’d be, Avatar,” Azula admitted grudgingly.

“Aang,” he automatically corrected. They might as well be on a first name basis.

She rolled her eyes. “So will you turn me in, then? Have me executed, get rid of your insane, murderous wife? You might as well... because as long as I live, I’ll never stop trying to kill you.” 

It wasn’t just a warning. It was a promise.

“This peace is too important, and besides, I don’t want to kill you, Azula.”

“I tried to kill _you_.”

“Yeah, well, not everything’s about getting revenge.”

He let her go, daring her to try anything else. Azula crossed her arms, assessing him, before replying, “I knew you wouldn’t. I bet you won’t even tell anyone about my little murder attempt, will you, Avatar?”

“When my great grandfather came for your people, I wonder if they all just sat on their hands and meditated like you did, preaching about the merits of pacifism and all that. It’s too bad their teachings couldn’t save them.”

Azula sent him a wicked smile, filled with malice as she went for the killing blow. “No wonder they were wiped out.“

Aang closed his eyes, taking a breath to center himself. She was trying to get a rise out of him, he knew that, and unfortunately, it was working. He could see a manic glee in her eyes, but it was different from when they’d been kids. This time, there seemed to be a tinge of desperation in her countenance, unbridled anger and despair. 

He had faced greater temptation than her. He’d carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he was twelve years old, had been faced with the most difficult choice a man could make — sticking to his principles, or saving the world. Ultimately, he’d found a way to do both. 

If Azula wanted to break him, she was going to have to try harder.

“I’m guessing this is the first assassination attempt of many?” His eyes sparkled at the challenge, and he could tell she wanted to wipe that look right off his face. He grinned, and to his delight, a thunderous expression crossed her face.

He was against revenge on principle, of course, but a small, petty part of him was thrilled at her visible annoyance. He’d almost been murdered three times that night. Now was _his_ chance to have a little fun.

“I won’t fail again.”

“Well, I hope you change your mind! In the meantime, I think I’ll sleep in the room next door if you don’t mind, since, you know, I’d rather _not_ be killed in my sleep.”

He nodded towards her and left the room, feeling oddly more cheerful than when he’d entered it.

***************

Azula hadn’t slept well that night. 

She’d failed. _Again._

Logically, she’d always know it had been a bit of a long shot. If Ozai himself hadn’t been able to defeat the Avatar with all his firebending power, there was little chance that Azula, without her bending and armed with a knife of all weapons, would be able to accomplish the same task.

It didn’t make the defeat sting any less.

But she wouldn’t give up now. Azula slowly got up from the bed, tugging her robe closer around her, sunlight filtering into the room through the glass window. The effects of chi blocking should have worn off by now, meaning she had her firebending back, and certainly she’d catch him off guard somehow.

“Azula! Rise and shine!” Ty Lee entered the room, a bright smile on her face.

Azula groaned. She was the last person she wanted to see right now. Well, second to last.

“I knew you’d been a bit busy preparing for the wedding with Aang and all that, so me and some of the other handmaidens packed your things for when you go to the Air Temple, and ooh, I found this pretty red dress you could wear!”

Ty Lee eagerly shoved the dress in her hands. A little too eagerly.

A skeptical frown crossed Azula’s face. “What are you doing here Ty Lee? The wedding’s over, shouldn’t you be back with the Kyoshi Warriors by now?”

The other girl fidgeted under Azula’s sharp gaze. “Zuko and Aang asked me to stick around for an extra day.”

“Why?”

Ty Lee swallowed. “I - I need to chi block you again, Azula. Something unexpected came up, you won’t be leaving for the Air Temple until tomorrow.”

She blinked, stunned. “What happened?” 

“I... I really think Zuko and Aang should be the ones to tell you this. It’s not really my business.” 

Ty Lee stepped forwards, and Azula automatically took a step back, briefly wondering if somehow, she’d be able to escape. 

Ty Lee wasn’t a firebender, and Azula could easily take her down. 

It was the guards outside, covering every inch of the palace, as well as her husband who, for all she knew, was still next door, that gave her pause. Reluctantly, she stood still as the other girl neutralized her pressure points. Ty Lee shot her a slightly apologetic look as she stepped back.

“I’ll let you go get ready. The guards will take you to Aang and Zuko soon to explain everything.” 

There was a sense of foreboding in the air as she sauntered into the throne room once she’d finished bathing and getting dressed. Her brother and her husband were accompanied by the waterbender peasant, who was hand in hand with Zuko. So, she supposed the two were a couple after all. 

They were all on edge, tension crackling in the air that only seemed to thicken when they realized Azula had arrived. Perhaps the Avatar had told his friends what had happened.

She still didn’t understand why he hadn’t killed her. She would probably never understand people like the Avatar, who reminded her far too much of Uncle Iroh, and how he’d reacted when his son died. 

Azula didn’t remember much about Uncle’s son, Lu Ten. He’d been shy as a boy, and soft in a way that Azula had immediately perceived as a weakness. She hadn’t thought much about his death, either, but for the first time, she recalled a vague memory of a boyish smile, a teenage boy lifting her to the sky on his shoulders. It made her stomach churn, and she immediately stopped thinking about it. Lu Ten had given his life for the Fire Nation, meeting an end that was far more glorious than hers would be. Or Ozai’s, for the matter. 

Men died in war, it was just what happened.

Azula had known that since before she could walk. Her mother had undoubtedly thought her words towards Uncle were callous. Azula had meant them to be, of course, because if it had been _her_ child who had died in Ba Sing Se, she would’ve razed the city to the ground. 

No survivors. 

Hell, Lu Ten had scarcely been more than a few fuzzy memories, and she still would’ve avenged her cousin if she’d been old enough at the time. She hadn’t understood why Uncle hadn’t done the same, and she probably never would.

Pacifism was an idealist’s game; it had no basis in reality.

“Azula, sit.” She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at the Firelord. She wouldn’t be commanded by him like a dog. 

He sighed, shrugging off her disobedience. “I’m sure Ty Lee filled you in on the delay in your departure.”

“Our father wants to see you.”

Azula’s eyes widened. Of all the things she’d been expecting him to say, that had been at the bottom of the list. 

She didn’t want to see him. Especially not so soon after her recent failure with the Avatar, and although she hated to admit it, a small part of her didn’t want to see her father in a cage. Her entire life, she’d lived for his praise, his approval. She didn’t want to see the man she admired brought so low.

It quickly became clear, though, that the decision wasn’t in her hands. Was anything, nowadays? 

“He said he’d only tell me what happened to mother if I let you talk to him.”

Azula suddenly felt immensely relieved that she’d be leaving with the Avatar soon to visit one of the Air Temples. If Zuko was trying to find their mother and bring her back, the palace was the last place she wanted to be. 

“I don’t give a damn about our mother.”

“Yeah, well, _I_ do.”

“Well then, since you’ve clearly made up your mind, Zuzu, what are we waiting for? Let’s go meet daddy dearest.” 

He nodded, but the unsettled expression didn’t leave his face. “I have to attend to some affairs, but Aang and some of the guards will accompany you there.” 

The Avatar tilted his head in acknowledgement towards her. His demeanor, which had been irritatingly cheerful when he’d left last night, had changed drastically. He exuded a quiet serenity as they left the room, guards wordlessly stepping into place beside them, but the crinkle of his brow belied his worry. He was unnerved by her father’s request.

He led her out of the palace and down to the prison cells, Azula’s heart thumping in her chest. Finally, he stopped by a cell at the end of a long, dimly lit hallway, opening the iron door. The guards remained outside to give them some semblance of privacy as she ducked inside.

She’s vaguely aware of the Avatar leaning back against the wall, watching her father with wary eyes. 

Her father glared back, with eyes of molten gold. 

He was dressed in red rags, his raven hair sticking out at odd angles. His pale, emaciated figure was wrapped in metal chains. 

This person barely resembled her father. The most powerful man in the world, the man who’d raised her with an iron fist to ensure she was the perfect heir. The man who, the last time she’d seen him, had been dressed in fine black and gold robes, not a hair out of place. 

“Azula,” he whispered hoarsely.

She stepped forward, sinking on her knees so that they were at eye level. He stared at her, not saying a word as he lifted his hands to frame her face, his chains resting around her neck. Some would mistake it for a gesture for comfort.

Azula knew better. 

She tensed, half-expecting a blow that never came. When it came to their training, every hit had been a lesson. She’d been a quick learner, and it hadn’t been long before he hadn’t been able to land any hits at all. She’d become the epitome of perfection, with no lessons left to learn.

Azula had learned early to keep the parts of herself that Ozai liked, and cut off the other little pieces to better fit into this role that father had fashioned for her.

“They told me... that your fool of a brother married you off to _him_.” Azula knew the rage behind his eyes wasn’t for her. It was for the perceived slight to him, and his honor. 

His daughter, the wife of his worst enemy.

In that moment, Azula knew exactly why he’d called her, and what he was about to do. 

She didn’t even try to stop him when the chains dug into her throat. The Avatar didn’t seem to realize what was happening, and why would he, when Azula hardly made a sound?

Her father stared at her, his eyes filled with hate and disappointment. She refused to fail him in this, at least, and her vision began to darken, the chains pressing and cutting in to her neck, a drop of blood dribbling down her throat.

It was poetic. Her father had created her, and now he’d destroy her. A better end than she could’ve hoped for.

Everything was so distant. So far.

Azula thought she heard Ursa sobbing... but that wasn’t quite right, was it? The whole reason they were down here was because of Ursa’s disappearance.

_It’s alright, mother. Don’t cry. You won’t have to worry about your little monster anymore, father’s taking care of it._

Then, suddenly, she was wrenched out of Ozai’s hold. Her father lunged after her, hitting the ground. She was dimly aware of guards filing in, of the Avatar dragging her limp form out of the cell. 

“I’ll cut my daughter in a hundred pieces before I let you have her Avatar!” Ozai roared, and she saw the fire in his eyes once more before the door slammed shut. He was still screaming curses at the man who’d taken everything from him as they left the prison. 

She knew this was solely about the Avatar. Azula herself wasn’t even worth acknowledgement, apparently, other than acting as another pawn that needed to be destroyed in this battle between her father and her husband, a tool that had outlived its use, another thing that had been stolen from him. Azula closed her eyes, his words echoing in her ears. 

The next time she opened them, a red ceiling greeted her vision. She was back in the palace once more.

Aang’s hands were around her throat, and for a second she wondered if he was trying to finish the job. It didn’t take long to realize that he was waterbending, though. Soon enough, the marks around her neck faded to faint bruises, but she still felt the weight of invisible chains pressing down on her skin.

He leaned back, and Azula sat up, facing him. 

She hated the pity in his eyes. Azula _belonged_ to Ozai. If he wanted to kill her, he had that right, and who was the Avatar to interfere in family business?

“Why did Ozai try to kill you?”

How was he still so innocent? So soft, so naive? Was this really the man who had defeated her all-powerful father when he was merely a boy? It seemed impossible.

“Do you not know our ways, Avatar? Certainly you’ve heard my insipid brother moan about his honor enough times to understand how important the concept is to our people.”

Just because Azula didn’t use the word “honor” in every sentence she uttered doesn’t mean she valued it any less than Zuko. They were royals of the Fire Nation — honor was writ in their blood.

“You’ve denied my father the greatest honor by refusing to kill him. Now he’s forced to live in dishonor for the rest of his life, wallowing over an ignoble defeat in his prison cell. He was being merciful, attempting to spare me the same fate.”

The Avatar’s eyes grew wider. “That’s his idea of mercy?!” It’s almost comical, how he said it. Her family had wiped out his entire people — he should know the depths of their cruelty by now.

The door swung open, and her brother entered the room, sans Katara this time around. 

“What happened?”

He and Aang spoke in low voices, as Azula turned away to face the window, crossing her legs. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the sunlight, warm the parts of her that had frozen over in that cell.

“Aang, could we have a moment?” 

Her brother took her husband’s place, settling down in front of her as the other man moved to stand outside the room, giving them the illusion of privacy. 

“Why didn’t you stop him?” 

A foolish question, and one she wouldn’t even bother answering. He knew exactly why. 

She had been trained to obey. They both had.

It struck her then that she was sitting opposite to the only person in the world who understood the magnitude of what had happened. No one else knew, but them, what Ozai was really like. The lengths that Azula had gone to in order to gain his approval. The strength it had taken for Zuko to reject it.

In the end, it hadn’t even mattered.

Zuko’s gaze softened, and he took her hands in his. Her nails dug into her brother’s palms, sharp enough to draw blood, anchoring her in the moment. 

Her fingers brushed a minuscule scar on the underside of his thumb, and she was reminded of one of their first trips to Ember Island. Azula had been chasing him on the beach, but he’d tripped over a conch shell and cut his hand. Ursa had to stitch it up later, and Azula had tried to distract him by repeatedly poking his nose, annoying him so much he’d forgotten entirely about the cut.

It was an odd childhood memory, and she didn’t quite know why she thought of it now, but Azula did remember that the memory was from _before_. 

Back when she’d teased her older brother and it had all been in good fun, before blue flames had risen from her palm. 

There was a history written in their hands, of siblings brought up together and torn apart. Of early memories, palms littered with scrapes and cuts from playing in the gardens and roughhousing before their mother called them to dinner. Of later ones, burns replacing the previous scars, the younger raised in the spotlight as a prodigy, the older neglected and tossed aside. Battles, rivalries, a throne, and an Agni Kai. Always one rising, as the other fell.

She didn’t know how long they sat there.

Zuko eventually left, and she was alone once more, with nothing but her thoughts for company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly everyone I’m just blown away that so many of you commented on the last chapter wanting to see more! I’ve decided to continue the fic, which is why I retitled the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed this one! 
> 
> I have to say, writing for these characters has made me appreciate the complexity of the characters of Avatar: The Last Airbender even more. Even the ones that seem clear cut, like Aang, felt like a balancing act between his meditative, serious “world leader” side and his fun, more playful side. Azula, can, of course, be all kinds of awful but in a way that you know where she’s coming from, a convergence of tragedy and evil and madness. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are the fuel to my writer’s flames, and as always, I’m grateful to anyone who leaves some!


	3. Book One: Beginnings

Zuko suppressed the urge to throw his crown out the window.

If he had to listen to one more noble complain about how the peasants were getting “impudent,” and how it was time to “restore the glory of the Fire Nation” by putting the other kingdoms in their place, he was going to make Azula Firelord. 

Granted, nobles like the one before him were few and far between nowadays, as people were mostly enjoying peacetime after so many years of war. Still, even the Avatar couldn’t quell everyone’s bloodlust.

“I thank you for sharing your concerns, and will bring this up with Avatar Aang later when I see him.” There was no way he was telling Aang about anything this useless, but the man in front of him didn’t need to know that.

The nobleman bowed, leaving the throne room, and the Firelord slumped back against the cushions around his throne. He was the last visitor Zuko had to see that day, thank goodness. 

“Tired already?”

“Always.” He turned to his right, shooting Katara an exhausted smile. When he’d agreed to be Firelord after Ozai’s defeat, whatever he’d been expecting from the position, it hadn’t been this. Nights of endless paperwork, days of endless complaints. 

It was worth it, though. Zuko’s people had never seen a day without war, and he’d never seen them happier than they were now, as he and countless others worked to maintain this peace. It was the greatest gift he could give his people as their Firelord, and he hoped it would last beyond his lifetime. 

Zuko left the throne room, Katara matching him step for step as they walked past the tapestries depicting his ancestors. She’d been staying in Capital City for a year now since they’d gotten together, and was probably the only reason he was getting any sleep recently, shooing him out of the library in the late hours of the night.

Not that he was complaining, of course. 

“After taking Azula to the Southern Air Temple, Aang is meeting with some diplomats in Gaoling,” she spoke up suddenly, her voice growing fond. 

Zuko nodded, and not for the first time, was grateful for the fact that Aang and Katara’s relationship had ended amicably after the war. He’d never asked either of them why they’d ended it, but he was just glad that two of his best friends were still as close to each other now as they had been before.

“It’s nice that he’ll see Toph again.” They all tried to get together as often as they could, but they were all busy trying to rebuild their lives after the war, so he never saw his friends as much as he’d like. 

Well, except for the one walking next to him. 

Which, of course, brought him to the question he’d been working up the nerve to ask for the past few months now. The miniature velvet box, containing a simple ruby ring, felt heavy in his pocket.

Zuko cleared his throat. “So, Katara, I was thinking that maybe... I mean I was just thinking... tonight, maybe we could, umm, grab dinner at the new restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, is it a special occasion?” There’s something teasing in Katara’s eye, a tilt in her voice.

Zuko panicked.

“We can invite Ty Lee if you want! You mentioned Sokka and Suki were nearby, we could all get together! It could be like a little reunion!”

Great. Just great. Why didn’t he just invite his ex-girlfriend while he was at it?

“Maybe Mai could make it too!”

Well, there goes his not-a-proposal with Katara.

“Oh... of course. I’d love that.” Katara’s smile dropped, and she looked away for a brief second, before looking back up, a soft expression crossing her face when they reached the doors, linking her hand around his arm. He unconsciously leaned into the touch, the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile as they fell into a comfortable silence.

It was the quiet moments he liked best with Katara. When they could simply relax, contentment radiating from them both which said more than words ever could.

They stepped through the palace doors, making their way through the gardens. When they reached the end of the pathway, Appa greeted them with a bellow, Aang patting the bison affectionately as he tied their belongings onto his back. Azula was glaring at the animal, standing a good distance away. 

“Do you have everything you need?” he asked, to which Aang nodded brightly, stepping forward and pulling them both in for a hug. The gesture wasn’t as foreign to Zuko as it had once been, and he enthusiastically hugged his old friend back.

Spending the rest of his life with Azula sounded like torture, but if anyone would be able to handle it, it would be Aang.

“We should be good to go.”

Katara shot him a worried look. “Be careful, Aang, alright? Don’t let your guard down around her.”

Aang tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I won’t.”

“How is she doing?” Zuko questioned, as Katara shot him a surprised look.

“You should probably ask her, we haven’t talked since it happened.”

Aang turned to place the rest of their belongings on Appa, and Katara tugged his arm. “Why did you ask him that?”

“I was concerned about her.”

He saw the troubled look in his girlfriend’s eyes, and immediately went on the defensive.

“My dad put her through a lot when we were kids, okay?” 

“I know your father screwed you two over, but you changed, Zuko. You became a better man. Azula, she’s just happy to carry on as she is! You _earned_ redemption; Azula doesn’t even want to try.”

“I’m not excusing everything she’s done. Hell, most of the time she ticks me off, but can’t you at least try to understand her? You didn’t see her after everything went down with my father, Katara. She was hurt, he nearly killed her.”

Katara shook her head. “She nearly killed our friends. Nearly killed _you_. She’s tried to kill everyone I’ve ever cared about. I’ll never forgive her for that.”

“I don’t need your forgiveness.”

Azula interrupted their conversation, crossing her arms. Katara’s scowl deepened, and she pursed her lips, walking away to speak to Aang, but not before shooting them a glare. 

Perhaps it was a good thing he’d already screwed up the proposal for tonight. 

The ring grew heavier in his pocket.

***************

“Azula, be nice. He’s your brother,” the shadowy figure of Ursa reminded, sighing. It was the first time in years that Azula had seen her again, and of course Ozai nearly killing her had been the trigger.

“Shut up,” Azula growled, and she saw Zuko frown in confusion out of the corner of her eye, looking at the empty space where Azula had been staring moments before. Her brother used to visit her in the asylum, she remembered. So much so that he’d gotten accustomed to her “erratic behaviors” — atleast, that was what the wardens had called it.

She hadn’t understood why he’d bothered to come at all, but eventually, he’d stopped, just as she knew he would.

Azula always lies, and Zuko always leaves. 

It’s a trait he picked up from their mother.

“I’m so glad you could see us off, Zuzu. You were taking so long, I was beginning to think one of those pesky assassination attempts actually succeeded after all.”

“The Fire Nation can’t run itself,” he responded, and she felt a surge of rage at his words. It should be her wearing that crown, not him, the Fire Nation was _her_ birthright...

 _Pathetic, Azula,_ Ozai whispered. 

_The daughter I raised wouldn’t be such a miserable failure._

Ursa might be her most frequent visitor, but Ozai always knew how to cut her the deepest.

Zuko had the nerve to look concerned for her. Her moronic, harebrained, sentimental fool of a brother actually looked like he cared. _Weak._

“The wardens said you had gotten bet— “

She waved him off. “So, you and the waterbender... tell me it’s just a fling, brother. You can’t possibly be thinking of making a lady out of that water tribe peasant, can you? She’d be even less deserving of the title than our dearest mother.”

He scowled. “That’s none of your business, Azula. Besides, I’d never try to force Katara to be something she’s not.”

“I’m only trying to help, Zuzu.” She lowered her voice.

“Most people don’t understand the responsibilities that come with the position. The rules you have to bend, the lines you have to cross. She’s one of them.”

She turned on her heel and left, satisfied at the worried look on her brother’s face, not bothering with a proper goodbye. It was the least he deserved, after forcing her into this predicament in the first place.

Azula eyed the air bison as her husband said the last of his goodbyes to his old friends. How the hell was she supposed to get on this thing anyway?

Carefully, she grabbed the beast’s fur to pull herself upwards, only to get an angry grunt in response. Before she knew it, she was being thrown backwards, slamming into the grass.

She gritted her teeth, staring down the furry beast, which had bared his teeth, shaking in delight. He was _laughing_ at her. Wonderful. She couldn’t even intimidate the bison. 

Azula felt a hand slink around her waist, hoisting her up on the beast so quickly she didn’t even have time to protest. She could feel the outline of the Avatar’s fingers through the cloth around her middle, but he removed it soon enough, lightly landing in front of her, closer to the creature’s head. Ever the gentleman, it would seem.

“Come on, Appa. Play nice.”

She sniffed. Just because her father had tried to murder her yesterday didn’t mean she needed to be _coddled_.

“Yip yip!”

The beast lifted his legs and they soared through the air, Azula clutching the bison‘s fur as they grew closer to the clouds, farther from the palace, until the building was barely a speck on the ground. 

Azula didn’t know if she should be more disturbed by the fact that they were now hundreds of feet above ground and the smallest move could send her tumbling to her death, or the fact that she’d just heard a grown man say “Yip yip!”

“Have you ever been flying before?” The Avatar asked her, his voice clipped but cordial. 

She considered ignoring him, but deciding to play along. Perhaps he’d relax his guard.

“Only on my father’s airships. Never on a beast.”

The bison let out a disgruntled noise. “He’s an air bison, and his name is Appa,” Aang insisted. Like she cares.

“He’s pretty fast. We’ll be at the Southern Air Temple by nightfall, I think,” he continued, a brightness in his eyes.

Azula scowled. His good mood was beginning to grate. Why had he somehow become _more_ cheerful after she tried to kill him? Had he forgotten about it already?

She looked down, staring at Capital City. It all seemed so small from up here, so much more insignificant than she had ever imagined. For a moment, she breathed it all in, allowing herself to feel the cool breeze against her skin, observe the way the sunlight reflected off the rooftops and painted the sky in shades of saffron.

“Did they let you outside? In the asylum, I mean,” Aang blurted out, his eyes intently focused on her. 

Azula scoffed.

“No.”

Of course they hadn’t. They couldn’t have a deranged lunatic getting loose and burning down half the city.

“My wedding day was the first time I saw the sun since I was admitted into the asylum, Avatar.”

He pursed his lips, turning back to the front.

“In that case, I think you might like the Air Temple. It has some of the most beautiful sunsets.” 

_I don’t care about the sunsets._

He stopped trying to talk to her after that, and she took a deep breath. 

Time for round two.

Azula was no coward, to murder the Avatar in his sleep, but catching him unawares was another thing entirely.

She concentrated on her hand, willing it to erupt in flames. 

A faint blue fire rose instead, weak sapphire tendrils sputtering out above her palm. She stared in shock, and tried again, only to get the same result. 

Her chi... something was wrong. No one had chi blocked her in a over a day, but it still felt like something was disrupting it, preventing the energy from flowing through her fingertips at full force.

This... this was pathetic. She couldn’t take down the Avatar with this! 

She groaned, laying back on the creature’s back.

It was going to be a long journey.

***************

It was well past nightfall by the time they touched down at the Southern Air Temple. Azula slid off the bison’s back immediately, putting some distance between herself and the smelly creature. 

“I think you might need a bath,” the Avatar chuckled, patting his pet’s head affectionately and lifting some of their belongings, turning to Azula. 

“Could you get the rest of it?”

“No.”

The Avatar sighed. “Let me guess _princess_ , carrying the luggage is beneath you?”

She didn’t like the way he said her title so mockingly, but somehow it was still better than when he said her name. With a twirl of his hand, the rest of their belongings floated behind them, as they made their way into the abandoned temple. 

Azula had heard rumors that the other air temples were now occupied by her husband’s acolytes, his home being the only empty temple left. Either way, she was glad it was deserted. No pesky apprentices to deal with. 

For now, she grudgingly followed the Avatar as he led them to their rooms — hers was separate from his, thank goodness, although she wondered if that was more for his benefit than hers. After laying down her belongings, he gave her an awkward little nod and left the room, probably to meditate or something.

The room was completely empty, save for a single maroon rug laid out on the creaky wooden floor, a bed, and a small glass window tucked in the corner. The closets didn’t look like they could fit more than five pairs of clothes. 

She’d seen straw huts more decorous than this. 

Letting out a snort of disgust, Azula finally resigned herself to unpacking by herself, not that she’d been able to bring too much with her to begin with. After everything was tucked away, she stepped out of her rooms.

The entire situation was utterly maddening. The air temple was high in the mountains, which were extremely treacherous if she did end up attempting to climb them. Even then, it would take days for her to get away from this place. Hundreds of Fire Nation soldiers had died taking the temple during the genocide, and it had taken months of planning. 

Not that getting away was her main priority, but still. It would be good to have an escape plan once she murdered her husband. 

A delicious smell interrupted her thoughts, and her stomach grumbled. She followed the scent to an outcropping outside the temple gates, where the Avatar was prodding at a fire with a twig. He looked up at her, tilting his head in acknowledgement, and removed the steel pot from the stick it hung on above the fire.

“I was going to call for you, I made soup if you’re hungry.”

Warily, she sat down in front of the fire, fighting the urge to blast the flames into his face. Until she figured out what was going on with her bending, it would be best to stick to non-fire related murder attempts. 

He placed a clay bowl in front of her, filled to the brim with some kind of green confection, and she made a face. The amenities of the place would take some getting used to. 

“How are you feeling?” Aang questioned, staring at her pensively. 

She blinked. “Why are you asking?”

He shrugged. “After Ozai, I just thought... I just wanted to ask, that’s all.”

The name ignited a fire in her irises. “Why? Did you think I got what I deserved?”

It was his turn to be taken aback. “You’ve done some terrible things, Azula, and I can’t just excuse how much you terrorized me, my friends, and pretty much the entire city of Ba Sing Se. But I don’t think anyone deserves that, not even you.”

She smirked.

The man that made her was a monster, was anyone surprised that she had turned out the same?

“Does that mean we won’t be friends?” she simpered, a wicked smile crossing her face.

He sighed, sipping at his soup and shrugging noncommittally. “I’ve dealt with enough politicians to recognize a misdirect, you know. We never did get to finish our conversation before Zuko barged in, but what Ozai did... that’s not okay. I just wanted you to know that.”

She looked away, surprised that he hadn’t taken the bait. “Father did what he thought was best to preserve the family’s honor.” She kept her voice carefully neutral, watching for his reaction.

The Avatar rubbed his chin. “The Fire Nation does put a lot of stock in honor, doesn’t it? How exactly do your people define honor anyways?”

“Why do you care?” 

“Don’t you think we should at least try to get to know one another a little if we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, until we die?”

“You mean until I kill you?”

He silently stared at her with unnerving grey eyes, as if seeing straight through her. 

She relented. What harm could come of it? “There isn’t any exact definition of it. When it comes to family, though, honor is basically the family’s reputation, their respectability. Honor is the highest ideal.”

He furrowed his brow, deep in thought. “The monks said sanctity of life was always the highest ideal.”

Azula rolled her eyes. “The monks were wrong. My people wiped them out, remember?”

“So you believe Ozai was justified in what he tried to do because of honor... since preserving your honor is somehow more important than preserving a life? That doesn’t make any sense.”

She bristled, standing up and walking away with the bowl of hot soup cradled in her hands. 

This man understood _nothing_.

***************

Hours later, she found herself staring at the ceiling in her cot, his words echoing in her head.

The voices were back. They weren’t as bad as they had once been, but they were there. Ozai, whispering of revenge and bloodshed and lost honor in harsh tones. Ursa, with her willowy voice, half-weeping and half pleading. 

Azula closed her eyes, her dreams filled with azure flames that rose and fell, igniting and dying in a single breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it’d be interesting to dive into a few of the cultural differences between the Air and Fire Nation. It gives a little more perspective on why Aang and Azula think the way they do, and what informs their beliefs. 
> 
> So this was definitely not my best chapter, and I know there was a lot more filler material and set-up for future events/relationships here than anything else, but I hope you guys enjoyed reading this! Once again, kudos and comments are always welcome!


	4. Book One: Conversations

Azula opened her eyes, stretching out on what barely qualified as a bed.

Groggily, she got up and wrapped her robe closer around her, shuffling outside her room. 

The Avatar was already awake, it would seem. He was patting his pet bison on the head in the courtyard when she entered. 

“Princess, I have some diplomatic business in Gaoling to attend to. I should be back by nightfall, but there’s some food in the drawers, so feel free to help yourself.”

He paused. “Um, you do know how to cook, right?” 

“Of course I know how to cook, Avatar, it’s a basic survival skill.”

“Right, I just thought... never mind.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s it, then? You’re not even going to leave behind some guards or anything?” 

He shrugged. “No offense princess, but it’s not like you could leave this place without Appa. Especially not in a day.”

Fair point.

She supposed that meant she would have to get on the animal’s good side. 

An awkward silence filled the air, as neither of them seemed to know what to say, until the Avatar finally climbed on the bison’s back and, with a tilt of his head, flew off into the distance.

Azula tugged the robe closer around her, watching them go. 

Well, first order of business, then. Time to explore the place. 

Azula wandered around the open gardens first, wondering if there were secret tunnel systems hidden underneath, but there didn’t appear to be any. The gardens contained little life, weeds and twisting vines thriving on the rocky soil, peppered between the cobblestones. She wondered if the grounds had always been like this, or if they had once been filled with flora. Perhaps the Avatar had even attempted to restore them after the war. 

She’d never been the kind to stop and smell the roses though, so she left it at that, moving instead to a large arena with wooden pillars, streaked with sapphire paint. The large wooden boards on either end of the arena seemed to suggest some sort of game had been played here. 

Azula could almost see it. Little bald children laughing and chasing each other around the pillars, with the temple elders watching carefully and chatting amongst themselves. 

It was a strange sight to imagine, especially since her ancestors had been the ones to silence their laughter, erase them from the pages of history until they were nothing but a distant memory, a couple of names in some old tome. A testament to the greatness of the Fire Nation, and an example to all who opposed it. 

A wintry gust of air blew over her, causing her to clutch her robes tighter still and back away from the arena until she reached an empty field surrounded by large archways. 

A statue stood in front of a large door, one that she’d briefly caught a glimpse of when they’d settled in the temple. Probably just another dead monk, but there was something in his eyes, a misery that could almost masquerade as solemnity if one didn’t look too closely, which gave Azula pause before she chose to ignore it. 

She walked underneath the archway, and soon enough, an enormous wooden door greeted her vision, sporting an intricate design, with what looked to be some sort of pipes on the side. Cautiously, she pushed the door, exerting more pressure when it became obvious that the door was even heavier than it looked.

It didn’t budge. 

Azula didn’t know how long she’d stood there, trying to push it, beating the door with all her strength to figure out some way to open it, but it became evident that whatever was inside, was probably something only an air bender could access.

Sighing, she turned away, wandering the rest of the premises to look for anything useful. She didn’t find any weapons anywhere, which was disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. This was the home of monks, after all. Still, it would’ve made her job easier.

Azula hadn’t expected to like the Southern Air Temple, and she’d been right — it was nothing compared to the grandness of the Fire Nation palace. However, she hadn’t expected to be quite as unsettled as she was, but there was an emptiness about the place that didn’t sit right with her. 

Even at the asylum, she’d always had the wardens, but this place... she couldn’t imagine someone as vibrant as the Avatar settling down in a place as barren of anything as this. Just the thought left her uneasy, even though she couldn’t fathom why. 

There were attempts to restore it, clearly, at least indoors, where the rooms were mostly dust-free and seemed to have more modern facilities, but the temple still had a haunting quality about it. She could see the trappings of a place that had once been teeming with life, dead and dry as a husk, a shadow of its former glory.

Her footsteps quickened as she left the strange door and the empty arena, towards one of the tall spires. There wasn’t a stairwell anywhere in sight, so she had to climb it, but Azula didn’t mind — it was good exercise, her unused muscles sore by the time she reached the top. 

The last rays of a dying sun bathed the tower in a dim light, and, perched at the top of the spire, she leaned into the warmth, allowing sunlight to spill onto her palms.

Anything to escape the chill that had seeped into her bones, which had nothing to do with the weather.

Slowly, she raised a hand upwards to the sky, willing her trademark blue flame to dance along her arm. Perhaps sunlight would ignite the fire that had once burned so brightly within her.

Nothing happened. 

She tried again, her hand trembling from the effort, and got a single spark for her troubles, a bright little thing that fluttered to the ground and died out in seconds. So pretty, and yet so _useless_.

“I told you the sunsets were beautiful.”

Azula turned around slowly, schooling her expression to hide her surprise. 

“You’re back a bit early.”

The Avatar shrugged, but there was a tense line along his forehead. He’s staring at her outstretched hand in puzzlement, and that’s when Azula realized he probably saw the whole thing. 

She bristled, but refused to look away, meeting his knowing gaze with a fierce glare of her own.

Men had underestimated her before. They’d learned their lesson soon enough.

Azula would get her bending back, and when she did, she’d make him _pay_.

“I brought back a delicacy from Gaoling, if you’d like to try it.”

He’s as formal as ever, an enigmatic look in his eyes. 

She followed the Avatar back inside the tower and down the steps, entering a warmer part of the temple, closer to their quarters, sitting down on a rug and taking a cautious bite out of the strange-smelling stew.

It was terrible, but she didn’t care. There were other matters to attend to.

“What business did you have in Gaoling?”

He hesitated, speaking slowly as if weighing each word. “There’s been unrest in the city. Some Fire Nation officials are... disrupting the peace.”

“Unrest? In the perfect little utopia you and Zuzu created? Who would’ve thought...” she trailed off, her face twisting into a mocking expression. 

“How many dead?”

He looked away. “Twenty.”

“Hmmm.”

The Avatar narrowed his eyes. “Peace doesn’t come easily, but the majority agree that it’s better than the alternative.”

“Says the fool who can’t even put down a little rebellion in some insignificant Earth Kingdom city. Let me guess, you tried asking them nicely? Attempting to reason with them so you wouldn’t have to resort to more violent means?”

His dark expression told her she hit the nail on the head. The Avatar scoffed. “You think I should kill the dissidents, don’t you? Of course. What else would I expect from _you_.”

“My father used to say that people need a reminder, from time to time. Difficult situations don’t just resolve themselves. I’m sure your teachers would tell you the same thing, but then again, their idleness cost them their lives, didn’t it? Meditating away on this rock, unaware of what was happening and unwilling to do anything about it.”

Oh, she’s _missed_ this. Poking and prodding, finding people’s pressure points and going in for the killing blow. Judging from the Avatar’s frosty expression, she’s just found one of his biggest weak spots.

“Your father used to say... is this the same father who rots away in a prison cell? Guess he’s not so all knowing after all.”

Well.

That... _that_ was surprising.

Azula had expected him to take the high ground, to refuse to give in, but it’s nice to see she hasn’t completely lost her touch. He was but a man after all. 

Perhaps she should stop now, but Azula had never met a limit she hadn’t tested at least twice. Besides, ending the conversation would be conceding, and Azula would not have even this small victory taken from her. She’d lost enough battles as it is.

She threw her head back, chuckling. “You know, if it were up to me, I would’ve hung the rebels and strung up their corpses in the town square as a warning.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing you’re not in charge. That’s messed up, Azula.” He used her name that time. 

She doesn’t _like_ that. 

Azula paused, considering her words carefully, allowing the silence to hang in the air before delivering the final blow. “And yet, if you did things my way, killing them instead of trusting your words to carry the day or attempting some other nonviolent method, twenty people would not be dead, would they, Avatar?” 

This time, he’s the one who leaves.

Oh, she was beginning to _like_ their debates.

_Point Azula._

She wandered outside after dinner, making her way to the bison, whose wary eyes tracked her movements.

It was the only living thing that could possibly take her off this mountain. She looked around, but the Avatar was nowhere in sight. Probably still wallowing in his shame and humiliation.

Well, it was now or never.

Her heart thumped in her chest, as she moved stealthily towards the bison, tugging softly at white strands to catch it off-guard. 

The mangy beast threw her back, letting out a roar and running in the opposite direction. 

“Get back here you wretched creature—”

It was too late, though. The bison took to the skies soon enough, where even Azula could not follow him.

She threw a pebble at the beast’s foot, which only caused him to give her a very unimpressed look. 

It seemed every victory was accompanied by a defeat, nowadays.

***************

He was gone before she woke up this time around, leaving her another day to aimlessly wander the premises, searching for something, _anything_ she could use, practicing her fire bending to no avail.

Azula was almost happy when the Avatar came back that night — almost. At least getting a rise out of him could provide some sort of entertainment.

She didn’t get the chance though. At dinner, he abruptly told her, “I thought about what you said last night.”

“I don’t agree with you on much, but you were right, Azula, in a sense. We had to take action against the instigators of violence before more people got hurt,” he admitted begrudgingly.

“I took away their bending.”

Her stomach dropped. She could see in the Avatar’s calm, serene eyes that he thought he had chosen the only option that fit with his principles. Personally, she thought taking away their bending, something so intrinsic to a bender, was like losing your limbs, a punishment far crueler than death. At least the latter had some honor in it; there was nothing honorable about the former, a cursed existence as a failure.

Which made her current situation all the more frustrating, but her condition was temporary.

It _had_ to be temporary.

Though, it was the fact that he had taken action purely based on a conversation that was hardly more than a couple minutes which took her aback.

“Why?”

He looked confused. “I just told you — because you were right. We couldn’t just stand idly by or blindly believe our words would carry the day.”

Everything about this man vexes her. She was his _enemy_ , he wasn’t supposed to _listen_ to her.

But he had.

He had, and she didn’t know what to think about that. 

When Azula didn’t respond, he continued, “I’ll be staying at the temple for a little while, now that the rioting has stopped.”

“You mean it’s stopped temporarily.” The words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

“They will rise against you again. War is the natural state of man, Avatar.”

Their eyes lock, and she sat a little taller, a sudden tension filling the air.

The Avatar stroked his chin thoughtfully, inquiring, “You think that peace is futile. You think mercy and compassion are a weakness. If your view is correct, then why did you lose?”

She stared at him, off balanced. “My father and I won plenty of engagements during the war—”

“You may have won battles, but you didn’t win the war. _I_ did. How do you explain that?”

She stared at the fire, sitting in silence. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What could she say to that?

Azula and Ozai _had_ lost, and it had literally driven her insane.

Finally, she tilted her head in acknowledgement.

He was a worthy adversary — that, even she couldn’t deny. 

***************

They settle into a sort of routine around each other, the next few days. 

Azula made sure to be track his movements, practicing firebending when he was off meditating or feeding Appa.

Fire was unpredictable. A single spark could turn into a raging inferno in minutes. Madness, rage, and destruction all fueled it.

She had all of that in spades, but still, she couldn’t summon a single flame.

She tried, and she tried, and she tried.

After what must have been the hundredth attempt, when her brain felt as if it was about to split open, Azula threw her head back and laughed, with madness and euphoria and simmering rage. Even now, she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff only she could see, and one wrong step would send her spiraling.

Though the voices in her head were a little quieter when the Avatar was around. Never gone, but quieter. It was yet another thing she would never understand about her husband.

The rare conversations she did have with him were awkward and stilted, usually limited to necessary greetings and the occasional argument (which she almost always won, of course). For the most part, they avoided each other, which wasn’t hard in the vast air temple, until she decided to try a new tactic.

Silently, she took to observing him. It was becoming quite clear that she wouldn’t be able to defeat her enemy unless she knew him, so she watched him carefully, searching for a weakness in his movements, any vulnerability she could find. 

Unfortunately, this meant she actually had to _talk_ to the man. Preferably _without_ arguing or threatening to kill him.

Azula started with small talk. Fairly safe topics, like the weather, or some old scroll she’d found in the library, silently noting down his reactions and trying to glean information on the state of the small pockets of resistance within the Fire Nation colonies.

The optimism was something of a front, Azula quickly realized. Dealing with politicians and maintaining the peace that he established had left the Avatar far more shrewd than most would give him credit for, and he was always careful not to reveal too much, smoothly redirecting the conversation if Azula asked anything he didn’t want to answer.

His optimism was of a cautious sort. Hope for the best, be prepared for the worst, though he would sometimes allow events to just play out, preferring not to act unless prodded to do so. 

Azula couldn’t understand that, couldn’t understand how one could hold the world in his fingertips and still be so _passive_ at times. With his popularity, he could’ve declared himself Emperor of all four nations and she wondered if anyone would even protest, but of course, he was too _moral_ for such things.

Still, she grudgingly admired his ability to balance his idealism with realism. As ambitious and successful as she had once been, Azula had never sought to achieve any sort of balance, and it had cost her in those final days.

She’d learned, though. If there was one lesson that Ozai had imparted on her above all others, it was that mistakes were never to be repeated, the few scars on her back serving as permanent reminders.

The Avatar began to seek her out from time to time, gradually growing more relaxed in her presence and more comfortable talking to her, even if there was still the invisible, unspoken barrier that lay between them.

Unfortunately, this meant he would also frequently get on her fricking nerves. One more conversation about fruit pies and she was going to fling him off the cliff.

Had he annoyed her father into submission? Is that how he’d defeated Ozai? Because sometimes Azula really couldn’t imagine a twelve year old version of this man taking down anyone, much less the most powerful man in existence.

“What did you think when your brother told you he was marrying you off to me?”

His pointed question pulled her out of her reverie, as Azula absently stirred her soup, which, unlike the stew from Gaoling they’d consumed a few weeks ago, actually had flavor.

She stared at the Avatar, raising an eyebrow, leaning forward onto the dining table.

“I think you know exactly what I thought at the time.”

He tilted his head to the side, examining her. “I know you hated me. I meant... if things hadn’t worked out the way they had, if your father had won the war, do you think you would’ve ever chosen to be married?”

Azula frowned. She’d never liked “what-ifs.” What had happened, had happened. There was no changing the past, so she didn’t see the point in imagining some sort of fake scenario that had never really happened.

Besides, the answer should be obvious. Of course she would’ve married. Father would’ve expected it of her, and Azula always did what father expected of her. Always.

“I am a princess, Avatar. When I came of age, it would’ve been my duty to marry and bare heirs for the benefit of the empire.”

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, his finger absently tracing a tattoo that ran along his arm. “Just curious. I don’t know if I would’ve chosen to get married at all if the peace hadn’t been threatened, at least not for some time,” he admitted.

“You had more of a choice than I, in the matter.” It was one of many points of bitterness between them, but somehow she may resent him more for that than nearly anything else. There was little Azula hated more than being reminded of her utter lack of control of anything around her. 

A temporary situation, she reminded herself.

Azula never fails.

Except, she had failed. She’d failed over and over and over again, and now she was here, in some remote temple with a man she barely knew who her brother had stuck her with, just another nuisance he couldn’t be bothered to deal with. 

Just like Ozai, in those final days. Banishing her to Capital City while he took all the glory. The Phoenix King, but even her father had not risen from the ashes after the defeat the Avatar had dealt him, rotting away in that prison cell.

She remembered the burning hatred in his gaze, the desperation, cold metal chains pressing against her skin...

Azula broke out of her thoughts, observing the Avatar instead, the quiet intensity of his dark grey eyes, roiling with hidden currents, the tenseness in his shoulders, taking stock of everything she’d learned about him so far.

The Avatar was diplomatic about nearly everything. His serenity would occasionally be interrupted by bursts of gaiety, but that was about all the emotion he showed. 

In so many ways, her husband was a mystery. 

Idly, she wondered if she cared enough to solve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I said this would be slowburn... folks, buckle up, it’s going to be a long ride. Our characters have gotten to the stage of *drum roll* not quite hating each other as much as they did a week ago! Progress!
> 
> To recap, Azula is hell-bent on antagonizing her husband, who is equally determined to keep his guard up and not let her get to him. Also, I know these last couple chapters have been more character-focused and a little slower in terms of pacing, but not to worry, things will definitely start to pick up for our protagonists starting next chapter. They’ve got a few curveballs headed their way.
> 
> Kudos and comments always inspire me to write a little faster and let me know if people are still invested in the fic, so I’m grateful for anyone who leaves some!


	5. Book One: Proposal

It was a silent morning. 

The chirping and buzzing of the wildlife were the only noises to fill the quiet, as Azula and the Avatar ate their breakfast in relative silence. Most mornings were like this, so it was hardly unusual. 

The scroll laying on the dining table, however, decorated with the seal of the royal family of the Fire Nation, was new.

Azula watched the Avatar unfurl the scroll that had been delivered to them earlier, feigning nonchalance, but a tight feeling settled in her chest as she tucked a stray hair that had fallen lose from her customary bun behind her ear. 

“Well? What news does my dearest brother have for us?”

He turned towards her, and there was concern in his gaze.

It did little to calm her nerves. 

“Ozai told Zuko about a secret chamber in the palace, and he was able to find a stash of letters there. Zuko believes they’ll lead him to your mother.”

Her hairs stood on end. 

She didn’t even want to consider the implications of the latter statement, but the former... Ozai was planning something. He _had_ to be, he wouldn’t give up something Zuko wanted that easily. 

Azula didn’t know how to feel about that.

She’d depended on Ozai for nearly everything, for as long as she could remember. Affection. Approval. She’d been privy to his plans, family secrets... everything she could’ve wanted to know, as long as she proved herself competent. He’d carved her into his image, and she’d been all too eager to one day follow in his footsteps. To become as great, if not greater, than her father.

Now they were leagues apart and he wanted nothing to do with her. 

He’d made that _abundantly_ clear.

Azula stood up with the abruptness of a lightning strike and walked away, down the steps until she reached an outcropping. Her fingers traced the granite surface, slipping in and out of the grooves decorating the slabs of stone, lined and weathered by the passage of time. 

She had to get away. She had to _think_. 

A faint spark fell from her hands, a brief flash of light, swallowed up by the weeds. 

Azula scowled, closing her eyes and focusing, as she’d done a hundred times before, allowing her rage to build up, her blood boiling hotter than the volcanoes of Makapu.

The roar of a fresh flame, heat sizzling against her skin, almost convinced her she succeeded.

Azula opened her eyes, greeted to a vision of the Avatar instead, flames rising from his outstretched hand. 

She’d hoped that by purposefully ignoring the issue of her bending, he’d allow her to keep some of her dignity, but apparently not.

She looked away, something inside her aching at the ease in which he conjured the flame.

“You can’t firebend.” 

Azula instead turned her attention to a small spiderfly hovering over the granite surface, impassively watching it dodge the faint sparks that fluttered from her hands on its spindly legs, frantic to avoid being burned.

The Avatar cringed. “Could you try not to set any flies on fire like that? It’s not like they’re doing any harm to you.”

She scowled. “They’re just spiderflies, Avatar. Insignificant gnats that fly about, dying in the blink of an eye.”

“Every life is precious, Princess. The bug’s life isn’t worth less than yours, and causing it pain doesn’t benefit you anyway. It’s unnecessarily cruel.”

“That wasn’t what I was taught.” Her face twisted at his rebuttal. Azula was surprised that he bothered with an explanation; whenever she’d done the same with the flowers in the gardens back home, her mother hadn’t bothered telling her why it was wrong to set them on fire and watch their petals wither to ash, she’d simply expected her to stop doing it. 

Perhaps the more surprising part was that it actually made sense. His explanation, stated in such utilitarian terms such as benefit, sounded far more reasonable than anything her mother had ever taught her. She was taken aback, too, by the patience in his voice as he said it, as if she was a turtleduck that scared easily. 

Azula ceased her torment of the creature, which buzzed around the rock, taking care to avoid her. 

It had gotten confusing quickly in those days, balancing her mother’s and father’s moral standards, or lack thereof, but she’d learned soon enough. Ozai was strong; Ursa was weak. Ozai approved of her, and Ursa did not. She’d learned to pick a side, and Azula knew she’d chosen wisely. 

_She_ wasn’t the one with a burned face, after all.

The Avatar let out a long-suffering sigh, drawing her back into the present. “I’m aware your father may have felt differently.”

Of course he did. She was a _princess_. How could her husband expect her to value some bug’s life over her own amusement?

Apparently he was having some difficulty trying to figure out a way to explain it as well, a furrow appearing over his brow. 

“The monks told me that every living creature has a spirit — a soul. The form they choose to assume in the material world doesn’t really matter; it doesn’t the define the essence of what they are, and it doesn’t determine their worth.” He allowed the spiderfly to escape onto his palm, offering a safe refuge for the bug which scuttled along his fingers.

It would be better to focus on the task she’d set for herself, to redirect the conversation and find the chinks in his armor, but she supposed she could have a little fun first. Azula always had enjoyed toying with her prey, and she had so few opportunities to do it here, so she allowed another spark to slip from her hands, this one burning the tip of the spiderfly’s glossy wing, not enough to seriously injure it, but enough to test the Avatar’s famed patience.

He put it out quickly with a gust of air, allowing the insect to take off to the skies. “That was uncalled for.”

“I suppose it was.”

Azula watched him carefully, crossing her arms as he spoke up.

“Zuko was having trouble with his firebending too, you know, during the war.”

She cocked her head to the side, curious. This was the first time she had heard of it.

“We had to go to the ancient city of the Sun Warriors, and we learned their ways. Zuko was able to recover his lost flame by channeling it from a different source.”

“How?”

“He realized that his purpose had changed since the beginning of the war, and regained his inner fire, but in a new form.” 

Azula sneered. She needed to get her bending back, not listen to children’s tales. “That sounds ridiculous, and anyway, it isn’t related to _my_ problem with firebending.”

Azula’s purpose was the same, before and after the war. Kill the Avatar. Her failure hadn’t changed that. It had to be something else which was affecting her firebending. 

“You’re telling me that Zuzu just wandered off to an ancient city and magically got his bending back?”

The Avatar rubbed the back of his head. “It was a bit more complicated than that... honestly, I’m not exactly allowed to explain it.”

He closed his eyes, deep in thought, the wind ruffling his saffron robes. She could see the indecision on his face, the crease in his brow deepening, an internal debate undoubtedly raging in his mind, until finally he met her gaze, straightening up, and she knew he had chosen to leap from the precipice of whatever cliff he’d been on the edge of.

“I can show you what we found, if you’re up for it.”

Her immediate fury swirled like a tempest in the air.

“Why would you help me? Do you _pity_ me, Avatar?”

He shook his head. “I see how lost you are, without your bending. I don’t really see a problem with helping you get it back as long as you stay at the temple after, and you can’t exactly hurt anyone here anyway.”

His eyes were filled with compassion, even for her, who has taken so much from him. Kindness, warmth, and _lies_ she wasn’t stupid enough to fall for.

Still, even if the story about him and Zuko going to the ancient city was ridiculous... she’d been working on her fire bending for _weeks_ now, with no progress. She hated to admit it, but his plan was better than nothing. 

“I suppose we could pay the city a little visit. It is abandoned, after all, so it isn’t like anyone else is dying to see it.”

The Avatar winced a little at that, but made no further comment, nodding his head.

“Alright, you’ll want to pack light. Tomorrow, we’ll head to the ancient city.”

**********

The flames cast shadows across the empty throne room, twirling high in the air as Zuko paced along the walls.

Letters were strewn across the throne, words overflowing off the pages, but he was almost afraid to read them. 

He didn’t know why Ozai had just now told him about the secret chamber and the letters his mother had hidden inside, but he didn’t care. He finally had a lead on how to find Ursa. He’d written to Aang straight away, as soon as he’d found them.

Azula and mother had never had the best relationship, but she deserved to know.

Zuko missed his mother fiercely, remembering her soft palms as she held his face in her hands, her lilting voice as she sung him to sleep. When Ursa hugged him, he used to think nothing could ever hurt him. 

He’d been wrong. Ozai had found a way to hurt them both, and even Azula hadn’t been left unscathed. Of course, that wasn’t exactly surprising... people were pawns to Ozai. He might approve of the more useful ones, like his sister, but it didn’t change their purpose, didn’t change the mechanical way in which he’d regarded both of them after Ursa had left. 

Zuko would find his mother — he _had_ to find her. The only person in his family who he _didn’t_ have a screwed up relationship with.

Although, there was another issue currently at hand. His future search for his mother wasn’t the reason for his sweaty palms, twitching toes, and nervous stance.

He was going to screw this up. He just knew it.

“Zuko?”

Katara stepped into the room, the door shutting softly behind her. She was instantly bathed in firelight and appeared to be cloaked in flames, which decorated her head like a crown. Somehow, even dressed in a plain blue tunic and worn fur boots, she looked queenly.

There was an anger in her eyes though, which was reflected in her defensive posture, arms crossed and lips downturned into a scowl. 

There had been some unresolved, lingering tension after their argument over Azula, but he was determined to fix that, walking towards her and gently taking her hands in his.

“Katara, I know you’re still mad at me. I know you don’t completely agree with me when it comes to my sister. You probably never will, and I don’t expect you to, but I know I don’t want to keep fighting about this.”

Katara’s expression softened into an understanding smile, squeezing his hands. “We’re going to disagree on a few things, Zuko. I don’t like or trust Azula, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less, and I get why you defend her sometimes. She’s your _sister_. I insult Sokka all the time, but if anyone else does it I’d kick their ass.”

“Sokka isn’t Azula,” Zuko pointed out. “I won’t defend everything she’s ever done, it’s just that I know where she’s coming from. Our father...”

His voice trailed off. The less said about Ozai, the better.

He took a deep breath, focusing on her azure eyes, the color of a cloudless sky.

He was kneeling before he knew it, taking out the ring box.

He had contemplated making it a grand, public gesture, but Katara had always preferred simplicity.

“I know you’re supposed to give a speech when you do this, but I’ve never been good with those, so... I love you. I think a part of me has always felt connected to you since the Crystal Catacombs, when you touched my scar and looked past it... past all of it.”

“You believed in me when I didn’t give you any reason to.”

Katara’s eyes widened. She looked at him the way she did in those caves, all those years ago. Two lost people, connected by tragedy, fighting for what little they had left, kindred spirits on opposite sides. There was so much joy, and so much hope in those eyes.

He wanted to wake up to her eyes every day, for the rest of his life.

Zuko opened the ring box. “Katara, will you marry me?”

For one heart stopping moment, there was silence.

“Umm, is there supposed to be a ring in there?”

He blinked, turning the empty box in his hand and staring in disbelief.

“I... I swear it was _right_ here...”

Katara burst out laughing, pulling the ruby ring out of her own pocket, and his jaw dropped. 

“I found it in your study. It’s a good thing we’re engaged now, because I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find your way out of your own house without me,” she teased, but her voice was hoarse, as she knelt down and kissed him. 

“I was wondering when you were going to do it, but to be honest I thought you were going to wait a bit longer. Not that I’m complaining,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

“So, uh, is that a yes?” 

“What do you think?” she whispered, her arms locked around his neck, leaning into his warmth. Katara might be a water bender, but there was a fire in her — not the destructive fire that was so prevalent in his family, but a calming one. Katara’s inner fire was the fire of life, steady and unwavering, promising solace, and it ignited his own.

The flush of his cheeks bled into the redness of his scar as he whirled her around, laughing, wishing he could just pause the moment and memorize every detail.

It’s over far too soon, an errant guard bursting through the door and disrupting their bliss. 

Zuko frowned. “I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed—”

“Forgive me, Firelord Zuko.” The guard knelt in a clumsy bow. 

“I’m afraid there’s a matter that requires your immediate attention.”

“It’s about your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all liked this chapter, and as always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated!
> 
> And that leads me to a little poll question: Are there any songs you guys can recommend for an Azulaang playlist? Music always inspires me when I write, so I’d love any suggestions!


	6. Book One: Sun Warrior

“Ozai escaped his prison cell.”

Azula gave Aang a look that told him she wasn’t even surprised. Then again, considering that this particular correspondence had arrived only a day after the last letter from Zuko, it had been pretty obvious that the scroll carried dark tidings. 

Aang watched as the Princess of the Fire Nation finished pulling her hair up into her customary bun, smoothing out her red tunic, completely unfazed. He, Appa, and Azula stood on the winding path outside the Air Temple entrance. They’d been ready to depart when a messenger bird dropped the piece of parchment into his hands, and it had pretty much gone downhill from there. 

He didn’t know how she could be so calm about this development. Aang himself was upset enough, and he wasn’t the one the Firelord tried to _strangle_ the last time they’d met.

No, he’d saved that for his daughter. 

The fact that Aang disagreed strongly with Ozai’s parenting methods was the understatement of the century. 

“Is my brother calling you back to the palace?” She tried to maintain a neutral tone, but this time Aang could detect Azula’s disappointment at the prospect of delaying the trip. Not that he blamed her, of course. As much as it was his home, the temple simply wasn’t the same as it had been... before. 

The dusty, abandoned hallways had been brimming with life and laughter, once.

Old memories threatened to rush to the surface but Aang pushed them back, answering, “No, he believes that he, Katara, and the guards can handle the investigation. They know a band of rebels must’ve broken him out, but they’re not sure how, or why anyone would attempt to break him out now.” Still, as a nonbender seeking war during peacetime, Ozai’s powers were limited. Hopefully Zuko would find his father before too long. 

“We should be good to go.”

She nodded, eying Appa. “Is your beast going to let me get on him this time, or is he going to throw me off again?”

“You’ll have a better chance of getting Appa to cooperate with you if you call him by his name,” he suggested, smiling encouragingly.

Azula rolled her eyes, but she grabbed the bison’s fur a little more gently than before and hoisted herself onto its back, Appa grumbling but allowing the woman to settle down. He seemed to be tolerating the firebender, for now. 

“It’s alright, buddy,” Aang reassured him, patting Appa’s head, taking a seat.

“Yip yip!”

They took to the skies, the Air Temple fading farther and farther away until it became a vague speck. He closed his eyes, allowing the wind to rush past him.

All these years later, and there was still nothing quite like flying, his best friend by his side. He steered Appa above and around the clouds, laughing whenever they got too close to one and had to make a sharp turn, Appa chortling as they zigzagged to avoid the puffs of air. The war and all that followed after had only made him enjoy simple pleasures even more.

Aang was pretty sure he could hear Azula groaning in the background. 

In response, Appa veered sharply to the right to avoid a lemur-shaped cloud, causing the young woman to shriek, but she managed to hold on, briefly leveling both of them a sharp glare before turning away.

He observed her as she lay back so that she was facing the sky, her hand occasionally outstretched and touching the whispy clouds, muttering under her breath. 

She’d been doing that a lot lately. Aang wondered if Azula was even aware of the whispered ramblings, but he knew that a part of her was slipping again. The mumbling had gotten worse, and there were times when her eyes would linger over dark, empty corners around the temple, seeing nonexistent shadows.

It was what convinced him to bring her to the ancient city of the sun warriors in the first place. That, and their situation wasn’t as hostile as it had been a couple weeks ago, even if he’d be a fool not to at least be a little wary of her. 

The scar on his back throbbed, as if following his thoughts. 

He knew she was dangerous, but he was not the boy he’d been in Ba Sing Se. 

Aang wouldn’t have offered to help her unless he knew he could handle her, if it came down to that. He hoped it wouldn’t... Zuko and Katara had told him what had happened during that final Agni Kai. 

Broken and weeping, lost in her own fractured mind. For all that she’d done, he didn’t want her to suffer like that, especially since even _Ozai_ hadn’t suffered like she had. He had always thought it odd when Zuko told him the burn scar was the best gift his father had ever given him, but after being married to Azula he was starting to see why.

Still, he wasn’t stupid. She hadn’t given up on her goal of defeating him yet; he was sure of that, but he had an inkling that the trip would give her a little needed perspective. 

On the other hand, he really hoped they didn’t run into the sun warriors. As much as he’d love to see them again, they had told him and Zuko to keep their existence a secret, and while Aang hadn’t exactly revealed their existence to Azula, he was stretching it a bit.

The rest of the day and night passed quickly, filled with meandering thoughts and the occasional “Are we there yet?” from the princess. They stopped at an inn for the night, and Aang had hoped to discretely stay in a pair of rooms, but unfortunately flying bison tended to attract a great deal of attention. They were noticed almost as soon as they touched down in a Fire Nation village for the night, a small throng of people greeting him. 

Traveling was always one of the best parts of being the Avatar. Everywhere he went, people around the world were always so welcoming, with wide smiles and open arms, treating him like a long lost friend. Peace had done miracles for the realm and it was easy to lose himself in the people’s joy at the war’s end. 

A part of Aang couldn’t help but feel guilty that most of the time, he felt more at home with his friends or in some random village, talking to the townspeople, than he did in the Southern Air Temple. 

“Avatar Aang! Avatar Aang!” A little boy ran up to him, interrupting his thoughts, shyly hugging his leg, and Aang chuckled, twirling the kid around before setting him down on his feet, the child flashing him an adorable toothy grin. He beamed as more kids swarmed him, arms raised upwards, and he knew he’d be there awhile. He’d always had trouble saying “no” to children. 

He could see that Azula was watching him carefully, but her expression gave nothing away, as per usual, and she kept her distance, staying near Appa, tracking his movements as he lifted a little girl into the air. 

Later, when they get the keys to their respective rooms after chatting with the innkeeper for a bit, she asked him, “Did you know any of those people?”

He shot her a curious look. “No, I’ve never been to this village before. They were pretty friendly though, weren’t they?” 

Azula didn’t answer, but there was a moment of visible confusion on her face. His answer had puzzled her, but he didn’t know why or how. 

It’s an uneventful night, and soon enough they were back on course.

At high noon, they reached the ancient city, Aang sliding off Appa’s back and stroking his fur once more.

“Stay here, buddy. There should be some fruit trees nearby with some peaches if you get hungry.”

Azula slid off the bison’s back, crossing her arms. “What now?”

“Follow me.”

Aang led her deeper into the heart of the stone metropolis, vines creeping around the crumbling granite settlement. It was a curious amalgamation of man-made homes and greenery, the jungle reclaiming its land after years of abandonment. Faded carvings and misshapen cobblestones led the path to a massive ziggurat, and the cracked mural which decorated its center.

To his surprise, Aang didn’t even need a blade to reflect a sunbeam and ignite the sunstone to open the doors to the dimly lit chamber. It was then that he remembered that it was the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, and coincidentally, the day where the spirit realm was easiest to access from the physical realm. In a city as deeply entrenched in spiritual tradition as this one, they’d have to tread lightly.

Familiar granite statues greeted his vision as they stepped inside the chamber. Azula was looking around in interest when Aang coughed to draw her attention.

“We have to —”

“Follow their dancing forms?” Azula finished, already placing her feet in the proper positions. “I figured.”

They mirrored the statues’ movements, and Aang found himself more than a little impressed with the ease of her footsteps, matching each form to a letter in her tightly controlled movements. As before, the sacred sunstone appeared in the center of the chamber, and Azula eyed it curiously. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch that thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously not. This whole place is probably rigged with booby traps. Was there supposed to be a point to any of this?”

“Do you remember the dance?”

She gave him a funny look. “Of course I do.” 

He nodded in approval. “Alright, now we have to go to the chamber of the Eternal Flame.”

Azula crossed her arms, following him out with one last glance back at the sunstone. “What’s the eternal—”

She never finished her sentence.

Five bare chested sun warriors, dressed in maroon trousers and dull saffron sashes around their waists, circled them around the chamber entrance. They pointed their sun-kissed spears towards the two intruders, moving towards them. 

Azula wasted no time, leaping forward to challenge the warriors, not a sliver of fear in her eyes, only a stone-cold determination that he hadn’t seen since their wedding night.

“Wait! Azula!”

She ignored him, dodging and weaving between the warriors with deadly precision. She leaned back, grabbing the middle of a spear in midair and slamming the tip into the leg of the man wielding the weapon, sending him crashing to the floor. 

Even he couldn’t help but stare in awe as she darted away from the flames from another man’s outstretched hand, twirling her newly acquired weapon like a natural extension of her arm. Another warrior hit the floor groaning in pain as she struck him in the head with the butt of the spear, catching the remaining three weapons with her own and throwing them back.

She ducked to avoid another blast of flame, her slender form slipping around the blasts of fire and sharp blades. She took down a third warrior by utilizing his own momentum against him to pull him forward, twisting his wrist, stabbing him in the arm. The two remaining warriors circled her warily, Azula’s eyes blazing as she got into a defensive stance, carefully assessing. 

“Wait! Hold on, stop!” Aang released a volley of fireballs to separate the sun warriors from his wife. “We’re not here to take or steal anything!”

One of the men stepped forward, three dark red streaks of paint decorating his cheeks. “Avatar Aang, she isn’t supposed to be here. We thought we made it clear that you were to tell no one else of our existence.”

“I — I didn’t tell her. I thought we could avoid a run-in with you guys, to be honest,” he admitted sheepishly. That plan was officially a bust. 

“Tell no one... wait, you’re the sun warriors? That isn’t possible! Your civilization died out years before the war!” Azula exclaimed, keeping her spear angled towards them.

“Avatar, what’s going on?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything, to all of you, just... promise not to attack each other?”

They kept their weapons raised, but made no moves towards one another when Aang dissipated the flaming barrier, utilizing his waterbending to heal the three warriors Azula had taken down. 

“Azula, Zuko was able to regain his firebending with the help of the sun warriors, and their dragon firebending masters, Ran and Shaw. The sun warriors aren’t extinct, they just went into hiding.”

A furrow creased her brow. “Dragon masters? How gullible do you think I am? My fuddy duddy uncle killed the last...” 

Azula blinked, and he could see the moment when the realization hit her with all the force of an angry mother turtleduck. “Oh. He lied about killing the last dragon, didn’t he? Of course he couldn’t bring himself to deliver the killing blow.” She shook her head. 

“Why am I even surprised?”

Aang turned towards the sun warriors. “This is Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. I’m trying to help her recover her firebending. I was hoping to send her on the same task that Firelord Zuko and I had to complete the last time we were here.”

The leader of the five man group stepped forward, his golden headband glinting in the fading daylight, skepticism in his gaze. “You are certainly welcome here whenever you wish to visit, Avatar. Ran and Shaw are pleased with the advancement of your abilities, and your success in restoring balance to the world.”

“The princess, on the other hand, is the daughter of the former Firelord. Her crimes are well-known, even here.”

Aang stepped in front of her. “Azula is my wife, and she’s under my protection.”

The woman in question snorted. “Oh please, like I need your protection. I was kicking their asses long before you intervened.”

“Azula, that’s _not helping_ ,” Aang gritted his teeth, the warriors scowling at the princess.

“May we meet with the chief? Perhaps we can clear up the matter with him,” Aang suggested. 

The sun warriors looked at each other, a silent agreement passing through the group before they nodded. 

“We’ll take you to him, but we’re going to need our spear back.” They gestured to Azula.

“Fine by me. I don’t need it anyway,” she said coolly, handing over the spear and staring down the armed warrior nearly twice her size. There were times when Aang admired her confidence, but that didn’t stop him from wishing she had fewer suicidal tendencies than she appeared to have right now. 

Four of the men led the way to the chamber of the Eternal Flame, with one sun warrior running up ahead, probably to tell the rest of the tribe what had happened. By the time they reached the chamber, an assortment of golden-clad warriors were clustered around a dark haired man with an enormous headdress, pale yellow feathers waving in the wind.

“Avatar. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. A bit busy, but I’ve had the chance to practice some of the dances Ran and Shaw showed me the last time I visited.”

The chief’s smile widened, as he embraced Aang with open arms. “It’s good to see you again, but I wish I could say the same for your companion. Why have you brought the princess here? We told you to keep our civilization a secret.”

Aang hesitated. “I came here to help Princess Azula with her firebending. I never meant to reveal the existence of the sun warriors.”

“Nevertheless, if we allow her to go any further, she must promise not to inform a soul of what she saw here.”

Azula nodded. “I won’t tell anyone. Frankly, I don’t really care.”

The chief watched her with suspicious eyes. “My tribesman told me that you two are married. If you don’t mind me asking, how the hell did that happen?” Aang chuckled.

“It’s a long story.”

Azula stepped forward, cutting him off. “Enough chit chat. I’m guessing we need to see these dragons next? Didn’t you say that’s how Zuzu got his firebending back?”

Aang exchanged a look with the chief, who explained, “You have to take a piece of the Eternal Flame, and bring it upto the lair of the two firebending masters, Ran and Shaw. The dragons will determine whether or not you’re worthy to receive enlightenment in the art of firebending.” 

“The lair is located just outside the city, on top of the large rocks overlooking the ocean,” Aang pitched in. 

“Once you get to the top, you have to perform the dance we did earlier.”

Azula took a deep breath. 

“Well then. Let’s get this over with.”

***************

The sun warriors grumbled as Azula made her way towards the enormous pyre. She could see the skepticism in their eyes, and it only made her want to prove them wrong all the more.

The hostile atmosphere was still preferable to being stuck in the Southern Air Temple, spending so much time cooped up in the same old corridors, trying and failing to master her firebending. She wouldn’t stand a chance defeating the Avatar without it; that much was clear. A part of her was still suspicious of the whole “dragons” narrative, but the Avatar’s story didn’t appear to be nearly as dubious now as it had been before she’d been attacked by warriors from a long-dead civilization. 

The chief knelt down next to the fire, taking a couple of flames and placing them between her hands, which cupped the fire as if it were made of glass and could shatter any second. It was the first time in years that she’d felt flames warming her palms, and she savored it. 

“The dragons await you, princess. A bit of advice, if I may?”

The chief lowered his voice. “You’ll want to tone down the impudence when you speak with the two dragon masters. Ran and Shaw won’t react well to disrespect.”

“We have that in common, then.” 

She turned around, facing the Avatar. “Coming?”

He gave her a strange look. “I... I can’t.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why not?”

He cocked his head to the side, closing his eyes. “The spirits... they’re telling me this is a journey you have to make alone.”

“You can hear them?”

He nodded. “On a solstice, the spirit realm, and the spirits themselves, are easier to access. The barrier between our world and theirs is weaker.”

Strange. She didn’t know much about the spirit world, so she supposed she’d have to take his word for it. 

“Azula, there’s one more thing you should know. I didn’t tell you before, because I thought I’d be climbing the mountain with you, but... if the dragons sense foul intentions, or if they refuse to accept you, they might not let you leave alive. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

Azula gave him a curt nod. She’d do nearly anything to get her bending back. 

Squaring her shoulders, she walked down the stone steps, careful not to trip on any curling vines as she made her way out of the city. Already, it was beginning to get dark, the sun slowly descending below the horizon. 

Azula hiked up the cliff, her sole attention focused on keeping the flames licking her hands alive. 

Finally, she managed to make her way to the walkway between two wide caves, the darkness within the enclaves stretching farther than her mind’s eye. She looked around, unsure of her next move, when a rumbling underneath her feet threw her off guard. Immediately, she held the fire closer to her chest, the wind roaring in her ears as the ground shook. 

The fire sputtered out and died.

Two enormous dragons emerged from the caves, spitting orange flames that encircled her completely. She caught flashes of massive leathery wings and glinting scales, swirling amongst the flames which cocooned her in a fiery tornado. Azula vaguely remembered something about a dance, but her feet were frozen in place.

_Know yourself, Princess Azula._

Waves of heat crashed against her, and the last thing she saw before everything went dark was a piercing marigold dragon eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, feel free to drop a kudos/comment! They always make my day!
> 
> UP NEXT: Azula faces a reckoning.


	7. Book One: Dragons

The musky scent of overgrown trees filled her nostrils. Azula opened her eyes, tall blades of grass swaying in a gentle breeze that tickled her skin. Gradually, she stood up, surrounded by evergreen trees, whose cedar trunks were reduced to vaguely defined outlines amidst the dense fog that covered the landscape like a fresh coat of paint. 

In front of her, twin dragons stood like figures from her childhood dreams. Their serpentine bodies intertwined and coiled around her, their glimmering scales forming a painted mosaic of reds and blues. 

Languidly, the dragons lowered their heads until they hovered only a couple feet above her, their faces breaking through the mist. Pearly white fangs were pressed in matching snarls, dark horns jutting out from the top of their skulls, crowns with a single spoke. It was their eyes, though, that caught her attention.

Their bright orbs penetrated the thick fog, glowing like embers amidst ashes, ancient and predatory. 

_Princess Azula of the Fire Nation,_ the red dragon murmured, its voice a soft, soothing timbre. _I am Ran._

 _I am Shaw._ The blue dragon’s voice sounded more like what she’d imagined as a child, sharp and hissing.

“Where... where am I?” she asked, twisting around. There were no caves or rock formations in sight, but she did see fireflies buzzing about, and... were those glowing rainbow mushrooms?

 _We have taken you to the spirit world,_ they spoke in unison, sharp coils slithering under the grass as they observed her. 

“Why? Is that even possible?”

 _We have lived for thousands of years, Azula. Do not presume to know the limits of our power._

There was a warning in Ran’s voice, and she chose to heed it, taking a step back, assessing them both before bowing. 

“I have come to learn what my brother has learned before me. I want my firebending back.”

Shaw chuckled, his voice scraping her ears like nails on a chalkboard. _You presume much, princess, thinking that you can just come here and demand that we restore your bending. Are you aware of what your great-grandfather did to our kind? Now, his daughter comes here, naively assuming we’ll aid her in fulfilling her selfish desires when we should be blasting her to bits and baking her into a fruit pie._

Shaw immediately went up in her estimation. This was _her_ kind of dragon.

 _Shaw, let her explain herself,_ Ran sighed.

Azula gritted her teeth. Apparently further humility would be required on her part. 

“I’m sorry for what my great-grandfather did to your kind, but his sins are not mine.”

_Insincere apologies will get you nowhere, Azula. You may not have committed his sins, but you and your father continued his legacy. Your brother, at least, sought to make up for his wrongs._

_If you wish to regain your bending, you must earn it and atone, like your brother before you._

_If you are to learn our ways, you must know yourself. The girl you were, the woman you are now, and the person you can become,_ Ran murmured in a hypnotic voice. 

_Who are you, Azula? What is your purpose? What draws your inner fire?_

In a split second, the scenery shifted. The fog disappeared entirely, and she found herself in a mahogany room in the Fire Nation palace, staring at a three year old carbon copy of herself, surrounded by her mother, father, and Zuko, all of whom were watching the younger version of her.

“What is this?”

 _A memory,_ Shaw rasped behind her.

 _Oh._ Wait, this looked familiar...

_Sunset flames rose from her palm, the golden eyes of a toddler transfixed. She had conjured her first fire that day, one on the outside to match the one within._

_Her father’s eyes glimmered with pride, even as the flames engulfed the hated pink dresses Uncle had sent her from one of his war campaigns. She was not the kind of girl that had liked playing dress-up._

_Ursa’s frown was irrelevant. Even at three years old, Azula knew who had the real power in their relationship._

She’s jolted out of the memory soon enough, as other moments began to flash by in front of her eyes.

She remembered there were considerably fewer memories of running around the gardens or picking moon peaches with Zuzu and Mother after that. Azula was a prodigy, learning firebending before Zuko first spouted flames, and prodigies had better things to be doing with their time. Ursa may have complained — Azula doubted it — but father would’ve overruled her. 

_Azula had been three and a half at the time, and fiercely competitive, so she had decided she wanted to be just like her father. In their family, father_ always _won._

She had told herself that she hadn’t really minded the less time spent with mother and Zuzu anyway. Ozai had decided Azula was important, someone worthy of his attention, and that was all that had mattered at that age. It was the first time she had ever felt _special_. 

She saw a flashback of herself watching Zuko and Ursa feeding the turtleducks, and a part of her ached in a way she couldn’t explain, as father pulled her back into the palace for another training session. 

_“There is a divide in this world, between the weak and the strong. Don’t be like your brother and mother, Azula. Fall on the right side of that divide,” Ozai whispered one night to his four year old daughter, assuring Ursa he’d tuck her into bed. It’s one of her very first lessons, and one she’d never forgotten._

Azula remembered that night, how badly she’d wanted to be _strong_. She’d wanted to be _powerful_. 

She’d wanted her father to love her, because no one else would. No one else was capable of it.

_What is wrong with that child?_

Azula had wanted to have it all. In so many ways, she still did.

It’s surreal, watching herself transform over the next few years. 

_Azula threw chunks of bread at the turtleducks in her mother’s pond, observing their reactions with interest. She’d been vaguely worried that she’d hit one too hard, but Ozai had looked approving. “There’s no need to concern yourself with the pain of lesser beings, Azula. We’re better than they are. Don’t ever bring yourself down to their level.” His voice was rife with warning, and Azula filed away yet another teaching in her brain._

 _She had been no angel, even as a child. She grew up curious about power and pain, but it was Ozai who taught her to enjoy them._

The scene melted away. She was seven years old, and already showing up her firebending teachers. Her father’s pride and approval only grew, and now she’s deemed worthy of private lessons. 

The next couple memories, training with father, passed slower than she’d like them to. She winced as a fireball singed off her arm hair, a result of her overconfidence. 

She hadn’t made that mistake twice. 

Azula never repeated her mistakes, period.

Every hit had been a lesson. Every scar had made her stronger.

Ozai would accept nothing but the best. 

There was a darkness inside her, and while others, like mother, turned away from it, he knew exactly how to stoke the flames.

His lessons were etched in her mind, carving and molding her into the person he needed her to be. Who was she, without him?

She had been pleased, back then, seeing the pride in her father’s eyes. Yet, looking at the memories now, the way he was looking at her... he seemed colder than she’d remembered. Azula had thought she’d seen a gentleness in his eyes the first time she’d mastered an advanced firebending form, channeling her rage, but when she searched his eyes now, all she saw was perfunctory approval.

No. That couldn’t be right. 

He had cared for her, in that moment. He didn’t now, obviously, but he _had,_ once.

He was the only one who cared.

...Was he?

_He whispered his lessons in her ear, forming her into his perfect little heir, to see the world as he did._

_Fear was the only reliable way._

_Love was weakness, so she refused to care about anyone but herself. Ozai... Ozai didn’t count._

It wasn’t a shocking memory to relive — she’d learned to utilize the same lessons and manipulations he’d taught her on her friends. She had to learn the art of deception from someone, and Ozai was the best there was. It was how he’d kept _her_ close, so of course she’d done the same with Mai and Ty Lee.

Still, for some reason, the sight of him whispering in her ear left her feeling more disconcerted than she should be.

The scene faded. 

_Mother left, but Father wouldn’t leave her._

_She wouldn’t let him._

_Lo and Li trained her with an intensity her previous firebending masters had lacked, for she must be perfect. She had become the one who would no longer tolerate failure. Not her own, or anyone else’s._

_Azula refused to fall on the wrong side of the divide. She_ would _have it all._

_The scene shifted again, and her brother was screaming. She’d made sure father saw her smirk when Zuko got his face burned off. Father was always watching, and she could not have him thinking she was anything other than devoted._

_Her brother’s scar was a constant reminder of what would happen otherwise._

Memories of her training as she grew into her role as the teenage prodigy fluttered by. 

_She kept looking at him during their sparring matches for approval. Adulation. Azula didn’t even realize how often she’d done that. Her father’s eyes were cunning as he congratulated and criticized her in the same breath. She became progressively better, not a toe out of place in each stance, and the criticisms became fewer._

Azula watched as a girl ran herself into the ground because she wasn’t _enough_ , because she had to be _perfect_ for a scrap of affection, a modicum of respect. 

She saw all the little moments that led her to to become that perfect little fourteen-year-old girl on top of the world, and her triumphs during the war felt so much more hollow, now. She had ignored it and denied it, shoving away what had happened in the asylum and everything before the war, but her memories did not lie. 

She was her father’s _puppet_. She always had been. Funny how it’s so much clearer now, when she felt like a spectator watching her life flash by, a shell of what she used to be. Nothing belonged to _her_ , not even her victories.

_Her friends betrayed her. Ozai abandoned her. Zuko defeated her._

_She didn’t understand what was happening. She’d been perfect, she’d been strong, she’d learned all her lessons... so why was she losing? Why was she losing when she’d done everything right?_

_Why was the waterbender holding Zuko, her soft-hearted failure of a brother? How had someone so obviously on the wrong side of the line managed to come out on top with friends by his side?_

_Why was she the one kneeling on the floor, sobbing and utterly alone?_

Azula watched her mind splinter like a window pane, a single crack deepening until it all came crashing down. 

“Stop!” she raised her voice, covering her eyes and ears. “I don’t want to see this!”

_If you are to get your bending back, you must face all that you are, and all that you have been through._

It was the threat of losing something so intrinsic to her that forced her to open her eyes once more.

She saw the memories she did not want to remember. The ones she’d burned out of her mind, of her yelling, wailing, and scratching her nails against the walls, resembling some rabid flutter bat more than a human girl.

The first thing she noticed was the grief. 

The depth of it surprised her. Long days and nights behind cold stone walls, left to contemplate her failure, staring aimlessly at nothing. She had once thought she’d never leave the place, but she’d been too far gone into her own fractured mind to even care.

_A storm raged in the bleak, lifeless plateau of her headspace, with the wind howling to the tune of her parents’ voices, scrambled thoughts flitting in and out of her brain quicker than lightning strikes._

Azula looked at herself, thinking of the desolation she’d felt. The desolation Ran and Shaw must’ve felt, when her great-grandfather and his sons had wiped out their people, and they were left alone. 

She looked at them — really _looked_ , and the veneer of intimidation she’d seen in their amber orbs cracked. She saw her own despairing eyes, reflected in theirs.

They had lost _everyone_. All their power, all their fallen comrades, all the greatness they’d once possessed, stolen from them by the actions of one man. Azula didn’t think she’d ever be able to look at a portrait of Sozin the same way again.

“I’m sorry.” 

The apology must ring more true this time, because the dragons did not question it.

Her madness, the asylum, her current circumstances... it was almost funny, how failure could put so much into perspective. 

Azula watched the hate bleed out of her in those years after the war, as she’d screamed at shadows in the asylum. There was resentment, surely, but not hate. The force that had fueled her for so long was spent. Her violent delights had gotten her nowhere. 

It wasn’t even reignited with her marriage. The resentment was still there in full force, her hands imprisoned in his, but even then she’d been thinking of Ozai and honor as she’d attempted to kill the man. The fury that had once fueled her... she couldn’t see it raging within her anymore. It wasn’t the same. 

She looked into her own eyes, and saw nothing behind them.

 _Only emptiness, as the scene switched to her father choking the life out of her._

_Who are you, Princess Azula? Who are you, without him?_

She was a puppet whose strings had been cut, except even now, her father appeared to have some hold on her. Controlling her actions, manipulating the plans she’d chosen to carry out. 

Azula hated him in that moment, with a viciousness that took her aback. Is that why she’d ignored this memory? Unable to consider the fact that the only person she truly hated wasn’t Zuko or his stupid waterbending peasant, not Mai or Ty Lee or even the Avatar, but the one she’d always held in the highest regard? 

No wonder she’d lost her bending. She was a girl hanging on a piece of driftwood in a vast sea, tugged every which way by the winds of fate and fathers, directionless.

The memories faded away. They were in the foggy jungle once more, though the mist strangely seemed thinner than before, and Ran and Shaw looked at her expectantly. She knew the question on their lips. She knew they’d likely kill her if she didn’t give them the answer they wanted to hear... if only she knew what that was.

Azula didn’t want to die — it was an odd thing to admit, given how she’d been gleefully planning her own execution a month ago. She wanted to live now with a desperation that surprised even her.

_Who are you, Princess Azula?_ Ran questioned. 

“Not the girl I had been. Not the girl he created. Not anymore.”

She was something else entirely, now. 

She was Princess Azula. Men still feared her, still trembled at the mere sight of her. Nothing would ever change that.

But she was done being her father’s pawn.

If there was one truth that had become abundantly clear, it was that killing the Avatar didn’t benefit her. It benefited _Ozai_ , and restored _his_ honor. It benefited the man who had manipulated her for her entire life, and then tried to kill her without a second thought. What would happen, if she were to murder her husband?

She would be executed. Of that, Azula had no doubt. She’s good at hiding, but people would figure out what happened fairly quickly when they stopped seeing the Avatar roaming around, and they would know exactly where to find her when they did. 

Azula wasn’t ready to die. Not yet.

The dragons rumbled, conversing in a silent tongue she couldn’t understand, until they returned their attention to her. 

_To reclaim your inner fire, you must understand what drives you. What do you want, Azula? What is your purpose?_

That was easy enough.

“Power.” Azula wanted to rule. That hadn’t changed. 

_How will you achieve your purpose?_ Ran and Shaw stared at her, unblinking. This was the answer that would seal her fate.

Her victory in this place, in this moment, was no longer tied to her father’s, as it had been for so many years. Ozai stood little to no chance of staging a successful rebellion as a nonbender, even though he’d escaped. There was still a way to win this game, but she was starting to realize that it was different than what she’d once believed. 

To win, she must concede. 

Azula had been wrong. She’d been seeing the Avatar as an enemy, when he’d be far more useful to her as an ally. 

The man she’d been made to call her husband was the most powerful man in the world. He commanded attention in every room he entered, and _she_ was his _wife_. 

Azula thought back to the conversation she hadn’t been able to understand at the time, when he’d revealed how he’d taken away the bending of those Earth Kingdom rebels. He’d been stricter on them... after she’d debated him on the point. She can — _has_ — influenced him before, so who’s to say she couldn’t do it again?

He ruled them all, with soft words and the power of the four elements when those words failed. 

Azula had seen how he’d been with those people at the inn, and how the people had been with him. It was the Avatar who showed her that gentility had its own power. Not the kind of power her father had taught her, but power nonetheless. 

He ruled the four nations, and she would rule with him. 

She’d advise him, guide him along the path. The people of the world would be _her_ people, whose rebellions she would mercilessly put down, whose political plots she’d foil, who’d learn to fear her name. 

_Her_ people, to defend and protect, with fire and fury.

Though she’d always wanted to rule the Fire Nation... 

Why settle for a nation when she could have the world?

The Avatar would be loved, Azula would be feared. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced. She thought he would be able to appreciate that.

“I will help the Avatar maintain balance in the world.” _Maintain his rule._

Never in a million years had she dreamed that sentence would leave her mouth. 

The dragons seemed to sense the truth behind her words, but she’s not entirely sure if they could sense her true intentions. 

They probably could, but when they drew back, she knew she’d passed whatever test Ran and Shaw had laid out for her.

 _It’s a good thing you’ve chosen to forge your own path. If we judged you solely by your past, we would’ve burned you to a crisp by now,_ Shaw told her bluntly, probably to keep her from getting overconfident. Ran sighed again. 

Azula wondered if they were siblings.

 _Do not mistake us for fools, Princess. We sense your motivations are not entirely... unselfish, but you have shown us you are capable of treading down one particular path of the infinite roads we foresee in your future._ Ran nodded towards her.

_Show us what the Avatar has taught you, Princess Azula._

Her feet moved of their own accord, positioning her into the opening stance of the Dancing Dragon. Azula moved to the rhythm in her mind, her dance no longer made up of the controlled movements she’d showed her husband previously, her limbs flowing naturally from one pose to the next.

_I will help the Avatar. I will rule the world._

Fire erupted from her hands, blazing hot, unrestrained as towers of bright light leapt towards the sky, the inferno surrounding and inundating everything around her.

She froze, astounded at the color of the flames. 

Well, _that_ was different.

Eventually, she drew her fire back, noting that the flora and fauna around her remained untouched. 

“Thank you.” Azula bowed to the dragon masters.

_We have one more task for you, before we bring you back to the material realm, _Ran mentioned. Shaw grumbled, shooting the red dragon a displeased look.__

_Are you certain, Ran?_

_It must be her. It is her penance,_ Ran insisted, the red dragon’s voice steep with authority. Slowly, Ran slithered to the side, uncoiling his tail. 

There, in the center of the field, previously obscured by scales, lay a gossamer dragon egg. 

Her heart skipped a beat.

_It is almost ready to hatch. We’ve kept it safe here, just in case, but it is time for the egg to return to the land of the living once more._

____

She walked closer, bending down and placing a hand on the shimmery material the egg appeared to be made out of.

____

“What... what do you want me to do?”

____

_Place it into the Eternal Flame, and care for the new dragon that will come into the world._

She glanced upwards, wary. “You’re trusting _me_ with this? The great-granddaughter of the man who destroyed your entire species?”

____

_We’re not entrusting_ you _with the future of our species. We have plenty of other eggs, but this one is yours to care for. We have foreseen it,_ Ran insisted. 

____

Shaw cleared his throat.

____

_I have foreseen it,_ Ran snapped, hissing at the other dragon. 

_The dragon is not yours, Azula, but you must raise it until the time is right, and she finds her true mortal companion._

____

With all the care she could muster, Azula picked up the egg in her arms. 

_Her name is Atai,_ Ran murmured. 

The dense fog clouded Azula’s vision, and she saw no more. 

**************

She woke up gasping, the soft egg cradled against her chest. The sunset flames swirling around her evaporated, until all that’s left were the dragons, flying in the air.

 _Go forth, Princess Azula, and bring new life to a dying race,_ they whispered in unison. 

There was a hard glint in Shaw’s eye, his mouth curled in either a snarl or a smile at some inside joke, she couldn’t tell. Ran was more stoic, but the dragon’s head tilted towards the chamber of the Eternal Flame encouragingly. 

Needing no more motivation, she climbed down the cliff. 

_Her future is still clouded,_ Ran murmured, uncertain, watching the princess leave. 

Shaw rolled his eyes. 

_Don’t look at me. You’re the one that wanted to give the little hellion a chance in the first place. Now let’s see if you’ve made the right call._

**************

Azula could hear the beating of the baby dragon’s heart, safely cocooned inside the egg, thrumming against her sweaty palms as she ran down the hill. It had gotten dark already, but the Eternal Flame guided her, and finally she found herself running up crumbling stone steps once more.

The Avatar looked at her, and the package in her arms, in disbelief. The sun warriors’ jaws dropped. 

“What in Sozin’s name...” one of them muttered as Azula passed them, kneeling in front of the Eternal Flame and placing the egg in the center of the fire.

It began to break. The only sounds she heard were crickets chirping, as the cracks began to deepen around the edges of the egg, before suddenly coming to a halt, everyone watching in interest. 

She waited several minutes, but the egg refused to crack any further.

Why wasn’t it hatching?

_Oh._

Fire surged through her fingertips, a burning blaze of her own mingling with the Eternal Flame. Azula watched curiously as her sapphire and gold-tipped flames mixed with the blistering yellow of the Eternal Flame. 

Her flames, azure and amber combined, encased the egg as well. One hairline fracture made its way down the egg, deepening and forming more little cracks until the egg split open entirely. 

A dragon less than a foot tall, sculpted from jade with beady eyes, flapped its wings, emerging from the flames to settle between her hands, rubbing against the sleeve of her tunic on her right arm. 

____

Gasps of awe caused her to raise her head, observing the wonder in the sun warriors’ eyes, even if some still carried suspicion in their gaze. 

“Shaw and Ran have given me this dragon to care for. I will protect it with my life, until it finds its true human companion in the world.”

“Shaw and Ran are getting soft,” a scrawny, dark-haired man mumbled, until the chief elbowed him in the ribs. 

“If that is the will of the firebending masters, then it shall be carried out.”

The Avatar cleared his throat, stepping forward. There was a measured weight behind every footfall as eyed her. 

“Have you found what you were looking for, Azula?”

Flames danced across her palms, a silent answer. 

“The dragons... they gave me perspective. Clarity. My plans no longer involve your death.” 

She thought he’d be more surprised at the news, but the Avatar didn’t miss a beat, his eyes twinkling. “Does this mean I won’t have to worry about you assassinating me in my sleep anymore?” 

“I guess not,” she admitted, casually leaning back against one of the stone pillars. He smiled, but there was a tenseness in his shoulders, a wariness in his dark grey orbs.

Good. He’d be a fool to take her at face value, and Azula did not suffer fools.

The Avatar — no, _Aang_ , she’d have to get used to that at some point now that she’d decided to keep him alive — held out his hand. “So, can we atleast try to be friends now?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes belied his seriousness.

She grasped his hand in hers, finally ready to answer the question he’d asked her all those nights ago.

“I suppose we can try.”

Her father may have been the Phoenix King, but _Azula_ will be the one to rise from the ashes.

**END OF BOOK ONE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Zuko got a dragon in LOK then Azula is definitely getting one here.
> 
> ***To my absolutely marvellous readers, commenters, and anyone people who left a kudos on this work, thank you so much for sticking with this fic! You guys always motivate me to keep writing, and I absolutely ADORE reading your comments! Seriously, y’all are the best!
> 
> For anyone confused about the italics, every chunk in italics is a specific memory of Azula’s and the dragons’ dialogue. Her thoughts in present-day about her past memories are generally not italicized.


	8. Book Two: Bumi

**Three weeks later...**

The Avatar dodged another blast of bright sapphire and sunset flames, sending a gust of wind that nearly knocked his opponent off her feet.

 _Nearly_.

It would take more than a breeze to take down one of the most powerful firebenders of her generation.

Azula twisted out of the way, a roaring blaze emitting from her palms, cutting a line through the granite floor straight towards Aang, but he countered with a fire of his own, splitting her own flames down the middle until they dissipated around him. 

Her strikes were honed with a deadly precision, every blast landing in exactly the right position, while his style was looser, more flexible, adapting quickly to her flurry of fiery blows.

Twin fiery explosions raced across stone, growing as tall as the nearest temple spire, neither adversary going far enough to burn the other. That wasn’t the point, after all. 

Atai fluttered her wings in approval, flying from Azula’s side to her customary perch on Appa’s back, both of them watching the colorful show in awe.

The dragon had taken a liking to the air bison, which was more than Azula could say for her and Appa’s frosty relationship.

The flames died down, with both opponents bowing from opposite ends of the field, concluding the match. Azula had insisted on the bows, both before and after. She knew her strict adherence to sparring etiquette amused her husband, but he had simply gone along with it. 

Aang’s easy grin revealed the fact that he was enjoying the challenge. Azula was certain he hadn’t had a real fight since Ozai, and while she wasn’t quite as good as her father yet, after years of being out of practice, she knew she’d likely get there eventually. Although, she also knew he could defeat her with all four elements, and she could tell he knew it too, so the sparring matches had simply started out as a way to test the boundaries of each other’s bending.

If there was a limit with Azula, she would make sure he never found it.

“You held back on that last one,” Azula called out, walking over to his side of the field, crossing her arms.

“Atai was flying around, I was worried I’d hit her.”

“My dragon can handle herself. She would’ve gotten out of the way. You shouldn’t go easy on your opponent just because you think your friend is in danger.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” he murmured diplomatically, firm in his stance. She pursed her lips disapprovingly.

Azula wondered if he resented the subtle power struggle sometimes, the push-pull nature of their budding...friendship? She didn’t know if she could quite call it that. She _had_ stopped trying to kill him, so talking to him wasn’t as awkward as it had been before, and they’d gotten comfortable enough around each other after a little while, but there was still a lingering tension, a complicated history that neither of them quite knew how to address.

“I’m surprised you aren’t willing to give Atai the benefit of the doubt when it comes to her own abilities. You gave me the benefit of the doubt when you took me to Ran and Shaw, and I tried to kill you.”

“Yeah, well, Roku might have had something to do with that one.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Avatar Roku? What... what does he have to do with any of this?”

“The night before I made the decision to take you to the city of the sun warriors, I asked him for help on how to handle the situation,” the Avatar admitted. “I didn’t know how to get past the you-trying-to-kill-me stuff, and I thought he’d give some decent advice.” 

“I mean, he is your great-grandfather,” he dropped casually, looking like he was fighting a laugh at her gobsmacked expression, his eyes twinkling at her bemusement.

Azula blinked, certain she’d misheard. “What?” 

“Roku. He’s your mother’s grandfather. Did I not mention that?”

“Obviously not.” She closed her eyes. _Wonderful_. The great-grandfather she’d apparently never known about was now meddling in her life.

Wait, didn’t that mean one of her great-grandfathers had killed the other one?

As if her family wasn’t complicated _enough_. 

“What did Roku say?” 

“He said that talking to Ran and Shaw would help. That it would set you on the beginning of a long path.”

“What path?” 

He shrugged noncommittally. 

Before she could inquire further, though, something caught her eye. Aang turned to see what she was looking at, facing the statue of the monk at the temple entrance.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, did you know him?” She pointed at the stone figure, curious. “I ran into the statue the first day we stayed here, he must’ve been important if they commissioned an entire statue for him.” 

“...Yeah. That’s Monk Gyatso. He was my mentor, and the greatest airbender in the world,” he added, a wistful expression appearing on his face as he stepped closer, until he was inches away from the statue. 

She observed him carefully. “You were close.” 

“He was like a father.”

Azula stared at the statue with renewed interest. _Like_ a father... so that meant him and her husband weren’t related, but oddly enough, the sculptor had managed to capture a sparkle in the elder monk’s eyes, not unlike the one she occasionally saw in Aang’s. 

“So he wasn’t just an important man... he was important to _you_.”

Appa’s grumble briefly distracted the Avatar from his reverie, as he patted the bison, who snuggled against the airbender’s arm. Azula’s dragon hopped off the bison’s back and settled itself against her leg. 

Atai was growing faster than she’d anticipated. She’d already begun spouting her first fireballs. 

“The threat of losing him was the reason I left the air temple,” he admitted, redirecting her attention. “The elders wanted to accelerate my training, and Monk Gyatso disagreed. I thought they’d take me away from him.”

Azula tilted her head in confusion. She had pieced together the fact that the Air Nomads had been a communal people, so it seemed odd that this one monk would defy the rest. “Why? If the other monks thought you were talented enough to advance, why did he hold you back?”

“He wasn’t holding me back. I... I think he just wanted me to have as normal of a childhood as possible.”

Childhood. An utterly foreign concept to her.

Though she wondered if the concept was as familiar to Aang as it appeared to be. After all, the elder monk had fought a losing battle. The twelve-year-old Avatar had woken up to a world of war when he’d been freed from that iceberg, and the fight for peace, she knew, was a never ending battle. Especially since it was against one’s natural instincts.

“His plans didn’t really work out, then.”

“No, I guess they didn’t.” There’s a touch of melancholiness in his voice. Azula didn’t particularly mourn her lost childhood, but she understood why he felt the way he did. 

The path of a prodigy was a solitary one. It had suited her, but being as friendly as he was, she could guess that Aang had likely struggled with that.

The shrieking of a messenger bird drew their attention away. Azula watched as the creature descended, carefully resting on the Avatar’s shoulder with a leg outstretched, a scroll tied to it. 

He untied the parchment from the bird leg, his eyes widening as he read the paper. His expression immediately darkened. 

“What is it?” 

“I have to go to Omashu. It’s... it’s my friend Bumi. He’s ill.” 

“I’m coming with you,” she said immediately. Her tone brokered no argument. 

The last time Azula had been stuck on this rock with no one to amuse herself with, she’d nearly been driven mad from the boredom alone. 

She could see the hesitation on his face. “Avatar, we both know that you’re far more powerful than me, you’d be more than able to stop me if I tried to kill anyone on our visit, and if I wanted to kill you I would’ve done it the moment I got my bending back. But I told you — I _don’t_. Besides, it sounds urgent, do you really want to waste your time arguing with me?” 

Aang sighed, lifting himself onto the back of the air bison, and that was how she knew, as usual, she was going to get what she wanted. 

“Hop on, princess.” 

  


* * *

  


The flight to Omashu was a silent one. Aang’s more tense than she’s ever seen him. Even Appa was unusually quiet, racing over small towns in the Earth Kingdom as they drew closer to their destination, Atai rubbing her head against Azula’s neck from where she’s seated atop the air bison.

They landed in the courtyard of the palace, Azula leaving Atai with Appa as servants and a man in fine robes rushed up to them almost immediately. A councilor, from the looks of him.

“Avatar Aang! Thank you for coming as soon as possible, King Bumi has been calling for you.” 

The man hesitated, his eyes landing on her. “Princess Azula,” he greeted stiffly. 

“Right this way, the king is in his chambers.” 

Aang raced up the stairs two steps at a time, watching her out of the corner of his eye until they reached the king’s chambers, at which point his focus was redirected almost entirely. _Almost._

“Bumi!” 

“Aang,” the wizened old king rasped, beaming at the young man who raced to his bedside, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “My friend, I’m glad you could make it.” 

Slowly, he turned his head and locked eyes with her. 

“Princess Azula, you’re looking better than the last time I saw you.” 

“You look worse,” she responded bluntly. He was trembling violently, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. 

Bumi guffawed, alternating between laughing and coughing fits.

She rolled her eyes. Apparently being on his deathbed hadn’t made the ancient king any less of a crackpot.

“What’s wrong? How can I fix you? Is it your heart? Your lungs?” There’s a desperation to her husband’s movements as his eyes roved over the emaciated figure, his fingers hovering over the prone form, looking for a wound, something he could repair. 

Bumi merely closed his hands over Aang’s own, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid my time has come, old friend. I didn’t call you here for the services of a healer.”

Ah. This was a goodbye, then. 

Aang’s face dropped. “No, _Bumi_ , come on, you can’t say that, there has to be something I can...” 

“Not every illness can be healed with waterbending, Aang. I’m an old man, we both knew I didn’t have long.”

“But... but I can buy you a little more time!” The Avatar’s voice was laced with desperation as he closed his eyes, drawing the water from a nearby pot, placing his hands on the other man’s chest.

Nothing appeared to be happening. She saw no change on Bumi’s face.

A servant, the only other person in the room, stepped forward nervously, bowing. “We’ve tried to heal him already, but nothing worked. Avatar Aang, I — I’m sorry, but I don’t think even the healing properties of waterbending can fix this.”

The king dismissed the servant with a wave of his hand, until it was just the three of them in the room.

“There’s... there’s got to be a way. There’s got to be something we can do.”

“There’s no cure for aging, Avatar,” Azula said quietly, feeling uncomfortable, and it’s her statement that seemed to finally take the wind out of him, as he stared at Bumi, the truth settling over him. The room suddenly felt stifling, and she tried backing out to give the two of them a little privacy, but Bumi shook his head, gesturing for her to come closer.

Warily, she kneeled by his bedside, right next to Aang, whose eyes were still fixated on his old friend. Still holding the Avatar’s hand, the king grabs her hand in his other palm, staring at the two. 

“Hmmm... light... and dark. A _balance_ ,“ he muttered. 

He traced the lines on her hand before releasing it, allowing her to stand up and put a little distance between herself and the dying man. “When I first met you, your mind was closed. Narrow. You must keep your brain open to all possibilities, if you want to reach your potential, princess.”

Azula had little use for the nonsense ramblings of a dying man, but something about the way Aang was looking at him gave her pause before she said as much, so she simply nodded instead.

“I’m going to miss you, you mad genius,” Aang murmured at last, a heavy sigh leaving his lips, gently hugging his old friend, and the king chuckled, hugging him back.

“I think you’ve finally learned to think like one, my old friend. Go on the super slide for me whenever you visit Omashu, won’t you? For old times’ sake. And prank the councillors as often as possible, they’re far too _stiff_.”

They chortled, and she took another step back. It was an intimate moment between friends, and she felt like she was intruding.

Bumi tugged Aang closer. Whatever his last words were to the airbender, they were clearly meant for his ears only. For once, she didn’t feel tempted to eavesdrop, instead looking away to observe the furnishings until their conversation appeared to be over.

When she turned back, the king’s eyes were closed, with some incoherent, faint mumbling and the slight rise and fall of his chest being the only signs that he was still clinging to the last vestiges of life.

Aang’s hand was shaking. He looked paler than Bumi, and his eyes were still wide, as if silently asking the old man to stay, even if he must understand, deep down, that it was his time to leave.

She’d always had a talent for picking out people’s vulnerable points, and this was the most unguarded she’d ever seen him. 

“Death comes for us all, Avatar. Even your powers are no match for it,” Azula murmured.

She didn’t know why she said it. Perhaps it was an attempt to get him to accept the reality of the situation, but if anything, her comment seemed to only heighten whatever he was feeling. She saw him fight back a flicker of anger in his eye.

“Stop that.” 

“Stop _what_ , Azula.”

“Stop holding back. Whatever you have to say to me, _say it_ , Aang. Suppressing it won’t do you any favors.”

“Your family _killed_ mine. I woke up from a block of ice and found out that your great-grandfather murdered everyone I ever knew, and you’re just _standing_ there, telling me to accept my friend’s death. I’ve accepted it, _princess_ , just like I’ve accepted all their deaths _ten times over_.”

Even in his anger, the Avatar somehow managed to be calm, but there was a venom in his words that she’d never heard before.

It... _intrigued_ her, to say the least.

“Imagine marrying the great-granddaughter of the man who killed your entire people for the sake of peace.” His voice was tight, a quietly controlled fury leaking through for the first time, but it was clear that this is the crux of their conflict, something he’d been stewing on. 

Azula stepped back. She’d... she’d never really considered their situation from his perspective.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but retort, “At least you had a choice, even if it was a difficult one.”

Spirits, what a _mess_ of a marriage.

Perhaps he was expecting a proper rebuttal of some sort, defending her family, but she wasn’t going to give him one. Azula was who she was, the daughter of his greatest enemy, and nothing would ever change that. She was certainly _not_ a woman of excuses, especially not for men who lived long before her, and especially since she found their actions inexcusable herself. No apology would change what had happened, nor the circumstances they were in. 

Aang took a breath, trying to refocus. She could already see the regret in his eyes, but she spoke first. 

“Don’t. I know what the monks taught you, I know that your people discourage hatred and encourage forgiveness, but you have every right to hate me, Avatar, to curse my name if you wish.” 

He shook his head. “You... you _frustrate_ me sometimes, Azula, but I don’t hate you.”

“I tried to kill you more times than I can count. My ancestors are the reason Bumi is the last person you had left, and now even if he’s about to leave you. You _should_ hate me. You should _want_ your revenge for what my family’s done to you.” Azula didn’t know why she was prodding him like this, only that she was curious. She had to figure out what kind of man he really was. 

Was he truly as moralistic as he appeared to be? 

Or now, on his friend’s deathbed, would he _finally_ lash out at her? 

Even principled men such as himself must be tempted every now and then, surely. She’d never met a man who _wouldn’t_ cave a little, given the right amount of pressure, and applying that kind of pressure happened to be Azula’s specialty.

Aang sighed, closing his eyes, and when he opened them, they were a shade lighter than they had been before. “Maybe I _should_ hate you, but I don’t.”

“Why not? I nearly _destroyed_ you once. I almost razed Ba Sing Se to the ground.” 

“You were a child forced into a war. That doesn’t justify all your actions, but I do know that in the end, none of us really had a choice, did we?” 

“Zuko made a choice. Zuko walked away.” 

“Yes, he did.” A pause. 

“But his circumstances were entirely different from yours, weren’t they?” 

Aang sighed, absently squeezing Bumi’s hand tighter. 

“Monk Gyatso once told me that hatred is self-destructive. It doesn’t _do_ anything. Maybe it feels good in the short run, and I’m not saying you’re not allowed to hate anyone, but if you let it drive you, you’ll end up with more problems than you started out with.”

He stared directly at her, unblinking. “I think we both know what hatred does to people who let it consume them.”

She looked away. His gaze is too... it’s too _much_. Too knowing.

Sometimes she forgets how perceptive he is.

Azula pursed her lips, beginning to understand her husband’s frustration. He could be as stubborn as her, when it came to his beliefs. It was something to admire, even if it would make her job rather difficult.

Aang clutched Bumi’s hand a little tighter, turning away from her, not saying anything. 

They sat in a silence that was only interrupted by the chirps of the canaries fluttering outside the palace window. The sound drew a weak smile from Bumi, who hummed a little to the canaries’ tune, giving no indication he’d even registered their argument.

The old man took a last, labored breath. His chest fell still. 

The king was dead.

It took her a few minutes to realize Aang was crying. 

It was silent, unlike the loud sobs of those she’d heard at funerals, from the people who had lost their closest friends and family members. His tears were eerily quiet, and they catch her off guard. 

Azula walked over and hovered over his shaking form, unsure of what to do. She was getting the sense that she should probably do _something_ , though.

Azula... Azula didn’t even know where to begin when it came to giving comfort. She was probably the last person anyone in their sane mind would ask for it. Her family had never been the affectionate kind, except perhaps her mother, but Azula had always disliked Ursa’s smothering gestures. 

It should be one of his friends here with him; surely they would know what to do. 

But even if she didn’t understand the whole concept of comforting, she did understand the desolation she saw in his eyes. Azula understood that it was so much more than just an old friend passing away. It was his last friend from _before_. Except Appa, Bumi was the last living tie to a past that was now lost to him, a past that no one would ever truly understand. 

Hesitantly, Azula settled for resting a hand on his shoulder. 

Aang froze, and she wondered if she’d made the wrong move, if she should simply retract it and leave. That sounded like the easier decision, anyway. This was all unfamiliar territory. 

Slowly, though, he covered her hand with his, squeezing it, so she kept her hand in place. 

She knows what it is, to stand alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note: I was writing the reveal of Roku talking to Aang in this chapter and realized it might work better if there was a short little scene in chapter 5 with the two of them, so that chapter might get a little rewrite with an added scene in the beginning! I’ll let you guys know!
> 
> To my marvelous readers, thank you so much for all your kind words on the last chapter! As always, I’m grateful for the kudos and I adore reading every comment I get on this fic!


	9. Book Two: Omashu

King Bumi’s casket sunk into the ground, four tall earthy spires extending out of the corners of his grave due to the talents of a single earth bender, who twisted vines and stone to decorate the burial ground. Tokens that Azula guessed belonged to the king were placed in strange positions around the tomb. It was an earth bending tradition she knew little about.

Then again, there was little she knew about the funeral customs of other nations in general. She’d been surprised enough that the last rites lasted seven days, and that on the first day, hundreds of people had gathered outside the tomb, whereas today, the last day, she hadn’t seen a single person outside on the streets since daybreak. Azula smoothed her white linen robes, glancing up at the Avatar, who was dressed similarly, his face contemplative, giving nothing away. 

The relative ease of Bumi’s passing seemed to have given him some peace in the wake of his death, but the Avatar would occasionally get a faraway look in his eyes whenever he stared at the city delivery system.

It was over soon enough, councilors and other important noblemen, as well as the king’s close friends, slowly filing out of the small room. It felt strange to be there, given the fact that Azula had barely known the man, but it hadn’t been avoidable since she was the wife of one of the old man’s closest friends. 

Finally, Aang and her were the last ones left. Her husband’s fingers rested on the edge of the marble commemoration that lay above the now-buried casket, a concentrated look on his face. 

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

There’s a hopeful glint in Aang’s eyes as he removed his hand. “I was just remembering, that’s all. Someone once told me that some friendships are so strong, they can even transcend lifetimes.”

That sounded like wishful thinking, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. If that was what got him out of his morose mood, she wasn’t complaining.

***************

“Absolutely not.” Azula crossed her arms, taking a step back. 

“Come on. It’ll be _fun_.”

Aang was already lowering himself into the cart that traversed Omashu’s mail delivery system. “I promised Bumi I’d go on it at least once. Besides, we went on this the first time we met, remember?”

Spirits, that seemed like a lifetime ago. The memory of a girl with steely determination chasing down the most powerful boy in the world, both undeterred by the gusts of wind and blasts of flames they threw in each other’s way, fiercely young and unstoppable, surfaced.

“Should I shoot fire at you like last time?”

It was his boyish grin, the one he hadn’t sported since the king’s death, that finally got her to relent, scowling as she climbed into the cart next to him.

So _undignified_.

They zipped down sandstone chutes, the air rushing past her, a light laugh leaving the Avatar’s lips as they abruptly switched onto another chute that would take them to their destination, sliding downwards at an increasingly faster speed. 

She’ll admit that there was something exhilarating about it, watching the city slip by in a blur until they finally stopped at their destination.

They’d been invited to one of the councillor’s houses the day after the burial for a private luncheon. He was an acquaintance of her husband’s. It’d been a while since Azula had attended a social visit, though she suspected the gathering was a little more than that. 

The borrowed green silk trousers and vest she’d chosen were surprisingly comfortable, matching the Avatar’s emerald attire.

Councillor Tazi greeted them along with his wife, Lady Lin. There was a wariness in Tazi’s movements as he nodded towards the princess before hastily turning to speak to the Avatar, but it was Lin that surprised her, smiling brightly as she led them both inside. Still, Azula had received political training since she was eight — a fake smile wouldn’t fool her. 

“How has your stay been, Princess Azula?”

“As well as it could be, Lady Lin, given the circumstances.” 

“Hmm... yes, the Avatar and our king were quite close, weren’t they?” The woman’s expression softened as they entered the dining room, sitting down in their proper places. “I do hope your husband is doing alright. As well as yourself, of course.”

 _There_ was the lie. The lady was good, but not nearly good enough to deceive _her_. Not that she really blamed Lady Lin; Omashu had a fairly rocky history with the Fire Nation, after all. Azula herself wasn’t allowed to leave the palace unless the Avatar was with her.

An impressive buffet of food lay before them, all vegetarian. Clearly these people had done their research, though their efforts to please the Avatar were a little too transparent. Azula had always appreciated the more subtle gestures. 

The conversation was fairly mundane, with Lady Lin prattling on about the city’s history. Apparently it had been founded by two lovers on opposite sides of the war — _idiots_. Maybe if they’d been more focused on winning battles instead of making kissy faces at each other, one of them wouldn’t have died. 

Councillor Tazi suddenly made a remark about the upcoming decision to choose the new king that caught her ear. 

“I’m glad you’ll oversee the council’s proceedings, Avatar Aang.”

“Of course, Councillor. It’s a rather unique circumstance, given the fact that Bumi didn’t leave behind any heirs. I’m afraid I don’t have much experience, but I’ll try to help the Council choose a leader amongst them as best as I can.”

“I... trust you’ll be around to advise the Council as well? So many members are still undecided, a few words from you could go a long way in helping many of them make up their minds.” His tone couldn’t quite hide his hopefulness. 

Oh, _finally_ , they’d gotten to the politics. She’d _missed_ this. Azula would bet 500 gold pieces that this man was vying for the throne.

“I prefer to keep my opinions to myself, Councillor, though I’d be more than happy to make sure the transition is smooth whenever you all come to a decision.”

Azula leaned forward, twirling her chopsticks and pursing her lips. It wasn’t that Aang had said anything wrong, per se, but with the right turn of phrase he could easily manipulate this to his advantage. She spoke up before he had the chance to redirect the conversation. “My husband has excellent judgement, Councillor. I’m sure if he sees someone he thinks worthy of ascending the throne, he’d be more than happy to point it out, though, of course, the decision still lies with you and your friends.”

Tazi brightened at her words. Aang cleared his throat. 

“I’ll try not to interfere too much. My job is to keep balance in the world, not make political decisions for the people.”

Of course, he just had to undercut the progress she’d made with only a few sentences. The Councillor still looked hopeful, though, so at least her efforts weren’t fruitless. 

She was considering her next words, raising a cup of tea to her lips when Lady Lin interjected, “It’s good to know you take your responsibilities so seriously, Avatar Aang, both as the Avatar and the last of your kind. The world is certainly eager for news of the next airbender’s arrival.” Tazi and Lin smiled at the pair, tilting their heads in curiosity. Nobles were always horrible gossips.

Azula choked on her tea. Aang coughed uncomfortably, his face flushing redder than tomato. 

Well, these people certainly didn’t mince words. The Fire Nation was fairly private when it came to these particular kind of matters, so the lady’s outward discussion of the topic was rather shocking, to say the least. 

Azula didn’t say a word for the rest of the dinner, Aang hastily taking over and talking about some improvements to the mail delivery system he’d been thinking about.

She’s glad when the visit was over, the two of them sitting in awkward silence as they took the system of chutes back to the palace.

***************

Azula made her way through the palace gardens the next morning. 

The Avatar always woke up at the crack of dawn, and always went to the same place, a small grove of bacui berry bushes surrounded by oak trees and a railing on one side, overlooking the city. Appa and Atai sat some distance away, munching on banana leaves. 

She walked up next to him, leaning on the railing and facing her husband. The luncheon from the previous day had brought up more than a few issues they needed to address.

“I think you should look into the noblemen vying for Bumi’s position as king. You could easily just choose a king for the Council. I mean, given your friendship with the previous king and your popularity in the city, I’m sure people wouldn’t mind.”

He shook his head. “My place as the Avatar is to ensure the transition of power runs smoothly, nothing more. I’m not going to get involved in this.”

She sighed. She would have to push him, then. Test his limit and see how far she could goad him into her line of thinking.

“Your place as the Avatar is also to advise the leaders of the world. Maintain the balance. Omashu is politically powerful, and there are many people here who are still angry with the Fire Nation for conquering them. Meaning there’ll be some candidates who want to stir up some trouble. Wouldn’t you rather support someone who’s aligned with your peaceful interests? It’ll make your job easier.”

“I’m _not_ supposed to just dictate—”

“Fine. You won’t dictate, then, you could just voice your support. That’s why I suggested it to Councillor Tazi before, I mean you must have seen the desperation on that man’s face. He was practically begging for you to support him.“

Aang sighed, looking away.

“You’re good at it,” he admitted, a begrudging admiration creeping into his voice. “The politicking. Reading people. It took me a little while to learn.”

She shrugged. “I was raised to be good at it. Besides, you’re not so bad yourself. If your goal was keeping yourself out of the situation, you said exactly what you needed to say. I just think you — and the people of Omashu — could benefit more from your involvement.” 

“I can’t play politics, Azula.”

Azula watched him out of the corner of her eye as he mulled over her words. If it was her, they would be the ones choosing the next king over a rather prominent city in the Earth Kingdom. However, she was starting to realize there was no chance Aang would agree to that. She’d have to work within the margins of his morals this time around, appealing to what he seemed to care about most — the people.

“You have an advantage, you know. People like you, Avatar, some of them even idolize you. That kind of influence alone will have every diplomat inclined to agree, or at least listen, to your ideas.”

He shot her a skeptic look. “I think you might be overstating my influence. Plenty of people in the Fire Nation don’t like that your brother and I ended the war, especially in the colonies.”

She waved her hand. “They’re in the minority. Ozai may have escaped, but he will have trouble recruiting followers to his cause, especially as a powerless nonbender. Perhaps you shouldn’t just choose a leader, but there isn’t anything wrong with voicing your support for the right person, Avatar. Someone who you think will actually help better the city and has the people’s interests at heart. Last time I checked, having an opinion wasn’t against the rules.”

“I’ll... I’ll think about it. But I won’t interfere — not unless I have to.” 

Well, she supposed that was a victory of sorts.

Now for the other issue on her mind.

Azula cleared her throat, drawing his attention. “I think... I think we need to talk about what Lady Lin brought up.” 

He froze. “The nobles in the Earth Kingdom are more... open about certain matters.” 

“The people of the Earth Kingdom may be more forward about these kinds of things, but they’re not the only ones that’ll ask.” Hell, she’s sure the servants are already gossiping about the fact that they don’t share a room.

“We can’t just ignore it forever. People expect children from a union, especially one between a princess and the last airbender.” 

It wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have, and it hadn’t been a discussion they’d _needed_ to have, until now. She could hardly be worried about that sort of thing when she’d been convinced that killing him was her last purpose left in life. 

Now, circumstances had changed. Clearly.

Aang clenched his fist. “I don’t — I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you into anything.” 

She rolled her eyes, knowing that would never happen. Her husband was a man who always chose his conscience, even when it conflicted with his duty. It was why he’d avoided killing Ozai, after all, finding another way to settle the conflict. 

“Besides, I don’t think we’re...” Aang’s voice trailed off. “What are you suggesting, princess?” he asked finally, quiet and tense.

“In the Fire Nation royal family, it wasn’t uncommon for Firelords to sometimes take concubines, usually if they didn’t have any legitimate heirs.” Azula despised the practice, but she had to know what he thought of it. It was only fair, especially since the thought of doing _that_ with a man who had been such a large part of her downfall still left her with a sinking feeling in her stomach. 

Aang frowned. “Many of my people chose celibacy, but for those who didn’t — the Air Nomads believed that marriage was sacred; unbreakable. They didn’t really approve of the idea of having children with someone else while married.”

“So that’s a no, then.” As dedicated as he was to the Air Nomad ways and their values, there’s no way Aang would go against his traditions, and from the look on his face, he didn’t want to. 

A part of her was relieved. As much as there marriage was a sham, Azula _didn’t_ share. 

Still, if the Avatar would only have children with his wife, that left only one option. She could see the realization settle across his face. A discomfiting silence followed.

“You’re the last of your kind. You have a responsibility to your people.” The princess knew all about duty, and unlike her husband, she believed it surpassed nearly everything else.

 _I will cut out my own womb before I bring another airbender into the world._ Azula winced, the errant thought from her wedding crossing her mind. 

Surely it couldn’t be _that_ bad. Ursa and Ozai had been strangers at their wedding, and they’d managed to get it up enough times to have her and Zuko, hadn’t they? 

She actually didn’t want to think about that too much. 

Though certainly it meant she and Aang could work something out. At least her husband wasn’t a complete nightmare of a man.

Azula crossed her arms, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility. I mean, I don’t think — I can’t. Not right now. But maybe... maybe at some point.” 

It’s the best answer she could give him to their dilemma. They’d... they’d find a way to make it work. 

_Somehow_. 

The Avatar nodded, looking relieved that this particularly awkward discussion had come to an end. “We’ll figure it out as we go. There’s no reason for either of us to rush into anything.” He seemed about as eager to bed her as she was to sleep with him. 

Goodness, what a pair they were.

She knew they couldn’t wait forever, either, but for now they were both content with pretending that they could. 

Aang walked a small distance away, sitting down underneath one of the larger oak trees, his legs crossed as he settled his hands in his lap. 

“Bumi and I would sometimes meditate here when I visited him, you know, after the war.” There was a note of longing in his voice — though he was definitely doing better than he had been a week ago, the pain was still fresh.

Well, that explained why he came here every morning. Meditation was a daily practice for her husband. 

The Avatar closed his eyes, breathing deeply. She watched the rise and fall of his chest as he steadied his breathing, indecision flickering across her face.

Slowly, Azula walked over, the grass tickling the underside of her feet as she sat down, facing him.

A startled look crossed Aang’s face when he opened his eyes to her mimicking his posture. “What are you doing?”

“It’s like you said, if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, we might as well try to get to know each other a little.”

If she was going to rule over the Air Nation and get the Avatar on her side, Azula would have to understand this man who was still a mystery to her. What drove him, what made him tick. Acclimating herself with some of his customs would have to be a logical first step.

“So... how do you do this?”

He looked startled, but Aang recovered quickly enough. “You need to learn the basics first. Close your eyes, and breathe. Focus on your breath. Inhale deeply, count to five, and then exhale.”

“You should feel the inhale and exhale in your belly. Feel the breath travel up your lungs, through your body.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, following his instructions. Azula breathed slowly, but she didn’t feel any different. It just felt like she was listening to herself breathe, occasionally interrupted by Appa’s grumblings, and the sound of birds chirping.

She opened her eyes. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. 

“For a basic meditation, you have to let go of all distractions. Focus on your breathing, and let everything else fade away. If you do it right, it should feel like you’re hyperaware of everything around you, without actively thinking about any of it.”

Azula closed her eyes again, inhaling deeply again, trying to shut everything out. Omashu politics, her increasingly complicated marriage, her father...

All the little sounds that she’d heard before seemed louder, but they didn’t distract from the serenity that gradually occupied her mind with every passing breath. 

_In._

_Out._

Between strategy meetings, firebending training with Lo and Li, battles, her time in the asylum... Azula had never allowed herself to just exist, like this. She had been a girl, then a woman, with a hundred different schemes whirring in her brain. 

She wouldn’t have lasted long as father’s favorite otherwise. Zuzu had learned his lessons the hard way — or perhaps they both had. 

The chirps of baby birds and half-fluttering wings now reached her ears, louder than before, intermingling with the rustling of the bacui leaves, the quiet munching of the bison, who seemed to be trying his best to chew the banana leaves as silently as possible so as not to disturb them. 

It was oddly peaceful. A peacefulness she had never known.

Well, at least Azula had begun to understand why the Avatar did this so often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this update took a while! Thanks for all the feedback on the last chapter everyone, feel free to tell me your thoughts about this one!
> 
> Up Next: Everyone’s favorite uncle makes an appearance!


End file.
